The Confederate States of America
by dancerjay12
Summary: Everyone believes that the Confederacy was created and killed during the Civil War. This, however, is not the case. Much like the Italy brothers, America has two personifications: Alfred F. Jones and Connie I. Jones-Fedracy. No one knows that Connie was created during the Revolutionary War to help Alfred. Rated T for the inevitable swearing that comes with sibling rivalry.
1. Revolutionary War Part 1

The story of Connie I. Jones.

Alfred F. Jones, after his colonies were established, realized that he needed help controlling them. He was still extremely young in nation standards, and with such a large landmass and preparing to go to war with Britain, it soon ran the risk of him getting hurt. So he split himself, and thus Connie was born.

When she was discovered, it was 1775. They had just declared war on England, and Connie was about seven years old. She looked up to her brother greatly, and since she was still a child, she didn't have complete grasp of her people and their reasonings. She didn't really understand what was happening when every single southern colony walked out of congress that day in 1776.

What she did remember was joining Alfred in congress and him admitting to his and her existence as personifications. She could also remember meeting the members with her brother. With the formstion of the second continental congress, Connie grew significantly. By the time they read the declaration of independence in 1776, she looked to be about seven years old. However, it was just months after she was discovered that she met Benjamin Franklin.

"Hello!" Connie beamed brightly, pushing her hair out of her face and giggling as she tilted her head to look up at the towering man. He smiled and chuckled down at her.

"Well, hello little one." He said, kindly. He knelt down so he was at eye level, smiling. "And who might you be?"

She puffed up proudly. "I am Constantina I. Jones! Or just Connie for short."

The man chuckled again. "I'm Benjamin Franklin. Where are your parents?"

"I don't have any. But my brother told me to wait at Bell street while he bought some carrots for my bunny, Fluffy!" She beamed, but her lips formed into a pout. "But then I wanted to prove to him I could help, so I tried to find him. And I kind of got lost..." She looked sheepish, but then smiled. "Wait a second! You're Benjamin Franklin? My brother always talks about you, he's a big fan. He's always praising you and complimenting your writing and inventions."

"Well, your brother must be getting quite worried, don't you think? I know where Bell Street is, would you like me tk take you there?"

"Really? Thank you, Mr. Franklin!" Her big blue eyes sparkled with childish innocence.

He chuckled again. "Call me Ben."

She took his hand and allowed herself to be guided through the crowded streets of Philadelphia. Alfred was looking around, a worried look on his face. When he spotted Franklin and Connie, his face showed absolute relief. He knelt down and hugged Connie tightly. "Oh good god, Connie. What have I told you about running off!?" He sounded awfully like Arthur in that moment. Alfred inwardly cringed at the thought.

"I'm sowwy Alfwed." Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes watered with tears. "I-I was twying to help you get food because I know it always takes you a long time."

His heart melted. "Alright, just don't do it again." He sighed, watching her eyes dry up and the lisp disappear. He knew she had him wrapped around her little finger.

That's when Alfred noticed Ben. His eyes widened. "Dr. Franklin!" He exclaimed, with great surprise. "Connie, you should not talk to strangers! Dr. Franklin, my apologies if she interrupted you-"

"Nonsense. She mentioned you are interested in my work before I took her back here."

Alfred flushed. "Well, yes- thank you for returning her, by the way- I am a fan of your almanacs. I read your paper everyday, and have kept up with your papers on your inventions."

"Alfie is teaching me how to read and write too!" Connie interrupted, munching on an apple she stole from Alfred's bag.

He flushed a bit at the nickname. "Ah, I'm not the best, though. I'm Alfred F. Jones, by the way."

"Connie introduced herself in the same manner." He warmly shook the younger man's hand. "Just out of curiosity, what do the F and I stand for?"

Alfred hesitated for a split second, a split second that Franklin questioned later on. "Not quite sure on that one, sir. Our father figure never really spent much time at home, so we never really knew." The best lies are partly true.

Franklin nodded. "And what, dear boy, is your profession at the moment?"

He looked slightly embarassed. "I'm a stable boy for a family down the road. The Smithsons. Have to make do with what you have." Franklin was well aware of the Smithsons; a rich family that paid their hired servants very little.

Franklin hummed in response, before a metaphorical lightbulb (or candle, whatever) appeared above his head. "How would you like to work as my apprentice?"

He watched with great amusement as Alfred's eyes widened with surprise and absolute joy. "R-really sir?"

"Yes, and just call me Ben."

"I would like that, Ben." Alfred choked out. Ben smiled.

"Brilliant. Come by my shop at seven."

"I can't leave Connie alone-" Alfred began.

"Bring the little one as well! I'm sure it'll be a learning experience." With that, Benjamin Franklin turned around and walked off, whistling to himself.

Alfred just stared, open-mouthed and eyes wide until he felt Connie tug on his trousers. He looked down and saw her give him an annoyed look.

"Don't talk to strangers, they said. Nothing ever good comes from it, they said."

"Shut up, Connie."

And that was how Alfred became apprenticed to Benjamin Franklin.

* * *

Connie sat uncomfortably on her brother's lap as she watched, with great facination, as several grown men shouted abuse at each other.

"Is his face supposed to be purple?" She asked, leaning in to Franklin. He gave a soft chuckle.

"No, Connie. It typically is not a good sign, but for a man like John Adams, it is no out of the ordinary sight." She hummed in acceptance and wiggled in her seat, trying to get comfortable. Alfred gently gripled her shoulders in a way to get her to stop. She mumbled under her breath but continued to watch the congress with growing facination.

"And that is why-!" The purple faced man continued loudly and furiously, but was cut off by another man.

"Sit down, John! You've been ranting for two hours now!" He groaned.

And so it continues.

Alfred slumped in his seat, sighing to himself. He was pretty much screwed at this rate. About an hour later, the congressmen were still bickering. 'They're worse that Arthur and Francis.' He thought, eyes widened slightly at the realization. At this point, Connie had fallen asleep about midday for her nap (they had gotten up rather early).

That was when congress finally agreed to break for a few hours, at least for dinner (A/N: dinner was their lunch and supper was their dinner). Alfred shook Connie awake, causing her to blearily open her eyes and yawn, looking around with confusion.

After eating, Franklin and Alfred found themselves sitting on a park bench, watching Connie run over to a bunch of other children and play.

"I must ask, Alfred, why exactly you come to these meetings. Most boys your age aren't interested in the slightest, as far as I can see."

"Perhaps, but I'm not most boys."

"I can see." His eyes twinkled.

"But these meetings... They're important to me." He glanced at Connie, who was currently attempting to climb a tree at another boy's dare. "And Connie as well."

Franklin's eyebrow rose. "How so?"

"She's an American. Whatever they decide in that damn hot room affects all of us." Alfred shrugged. Franklin smiled at the response. Alfred couldn't help but mentally add, 'plus, her existence is most based around the idea of Revolution.'

"You know, Alfred. You remind me of a young man I met once when in England, many many years ago."

"Really? Who?"

"A young man with blonde hair, green eyes, and eyebrows that were a rather laughable size." Alfred's smile dimmed slightly, Ben noticed, but he contined. "He was determined. Confident. But there was another boy. Very young, perhaps Connie's age, with blonde hair and blue eyes." His eyes twinkled again as he noticed Alfred begin shifting in his seat. "And while that young man was strong, determined, and confident, he was also caring to the young boy. A couple years ago when I had to return to England to face Parliament, I saw the young man again, only without the boy. But here is the point, Alfred, the young man looked exactly the same. Not one difference."

Alfred swallowed.

"So tell me, Alfred F. Jones." He looked directly into Alfred's deep blue eyes. "Who are you?"

Alfed was quiet for a moment. His shoulder slumper, and he said, "I am the personification of America."

His eyebrow rose. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that. Still, he kept his voice pleasant. "And Connie?"

"She represents the south. It's difficult to explain. But why did you want to know about me? Or better yet, how?"

"I didn't know. That is why I asked." Benjamin chuckled heartily. "But I wished to know simply because I believe this may be just the motivation the congress needs to go on forward."

As they returned to the meeting room, Franklin couldn't help but ask, "I suppose this the the reason for your unnatural strength? Rather than your initial answer that you are 'an awesome hero'."


	2. Revolutionary War Part 2

**A tad bit here taken from the hilarious musical 1776. It's probably been used for countless other Revolutionary War fics, but there's a good reason why a lot of people use it. It's a relatively accurate portrayal, surprisingly. Onto the story!**

* * *

They were the first ones there. As the rest of the delegates piled into the room, Connie looked up at her big brother. "What's wrong, Alfie?"

"Ben wants me to tell the congress, but I don't know... We really are only supposed to tell our governments about the existence of nations."

"Well, they're the closest to a government we have." Connie pointed out, with her head cocking slightly to the right.

Alfred smiled slightly, kissing the top of her head. "True that, Connie."

"You people act like the decisions we make here are not about to affect every single person in every single colony!" John Adams fumed.

"If these decisions are so important, why are there children in the room?" One delegate snickered. Everyone glanced in the direction of Connie, Alfred, and Franklin.

"That is a good question." Hancock sighed. "Doctor Franklin, would you mind explaining who and why these young people are here."

"This is my apprentice, Alfred, and his younger sister, Constantina."

"Yes, but that does not explain why they are here!"

"I don't see why not. It is refreshing to see the youth of today partaking such an interest in politics."

For some reason, Alfred had not reacted. He seemed deep in thought. Connie clapped her hands in front of his face before turning back to Franklin. "Yeah. He's gone." She shrugged nonchalantly.

"What is he-"

"Alfred does that a lot. It's not that he isn't paying attention, he just zones out into deep thought rather often." Connie said cheerfully.

"He understands quite a bit." Franklin added, a bit of pride in his voice. Washington spoke up,

"I saw him the other day, up in the bell tower. It was an odd thing; the young man asked to ring the bell. He struck it so hard that it cracked! The bell! A large fracture in it!" Washington watched the young man, curious.

"While attempting to enter a room upstairs, I realized the door was stuck. Between myself and two others, we were unable to break down the door. However, Alfred came along and just pushed the door right off its hinges! And upon seeing the inside, there were numerous chairs stacked upon a large table that had been pushed to the otherside of the room when Alfred had pushed the door in." Adam added.

"I came in early once to find Alfred opening letters in the room. He got a rather nasty and deep cut from a letter opener, and the wound began to bleed. By the time I returned with bandages, the wound was gone." Hancock spoke up.

Everyone was now staring at the siblings, Connie as oblivious as ever and Alfred deep in thought. Franklin smiled. "I knew his strength would get him into trouble one of these days. Best let him tell you."

"AMERICA! THE BRITISH ARE COMING!" Connie randomly screamed into the ear of her brother, who screamed (rather girlishly) and fell out of his chair.

Connie burst into a fit of giggles at the reaction she received. Alfred glared. "Connie! You know I still get nightmares about that!" He complained, not realizing the others were watching him.

"More like wet the sheets." She chirped. His face turned scarlet, but before he could reply, Jefferson (surprisingly) weakly spoke up.

"Did you just call him America?" Jefferson asked, partly confused, partly faint.

Alfred blinked, slowly processing what was happening. "Oh. Shit..." He muttered. He looked to Franklin, who smiled encouragingly. Alfred sighed. "I am the personification of America." He smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"Only the north!" Conmie cut in, whining. He rolled his eyes in reply.

There was a deathly silence in the room, staring at Alfred as if he had gone mad. In fact, he half thought that perhaps one of them would scream "BURN THE WITCH!" And they'd have to go through another Salem Witch Trial. He shivered at the thought.

"That- that's how your cut healed." Hancock stammered.

"And how you kicked down a door that three full grown man couldn't open." Adams gaped.

"And managed to break a bell made of complete bronze." Washington completed, dumbfounded.

"Yeah, it's rather difficult to keep that under control." Alfred nervously scratched the back of his neck. "Connie nearly broke the printing press last week."

Everyone stared at the 3'10, skinny, and innocent looking girl. As she smiled and waved at them, they couldn't help but think that the idea of this child nearly breaking a complicated machine five times her size and twenty times her weight was preposterous.

"You expect us to believe you are immortal?" A delegate scoffed.

Alfred shrugged. "Believe what you will. I am what I am."

There was a ringing silence at his words, before Washington spoke up. "Constantina mentioned something about North and South?"

Connie made a face at her full name, but Alfred began talking before she could correct him. "After what happened at Lexington and Concord, I realized how much this war was going to cost me. See, I literally AM America, so I can feel when towns are going into battles and my people are dying. So it physically hurt during the battles."

"It was then that I realized I simply wouldn't be able to handle it. The British are incredibly strong, they're not going to just stop in the North. They're going to try to capture the south as well, and I know I physically would be unable to hold this nation together. Because, in comparison to some nations like China, I'm like a baby. So I decided to split myself. At first, I didn't even think it was possible. Then I found Connie." He picked up the little girl and placed her in his lap, causing her to squeal and giggle. "I hadn't taken into account the possibility of her being a toddler, so I took her in as my little sister. Just like England did for me." A sad smile appeared on his face.

"Wait a second, England is also personified?" Adams sputtered.

"So is every country, as far as I'm aware."

More silence, before Franklin spoke up. "I suppose this only further proves John's point. We are a nation; Alfred and Connie's existence proves it. They are siblings, and are part of one country. Remember, united we stand, divided we fall."

"He is correct." Adams nodded. "We have the living embodiments of our country here. Look at what they have to suffer through, and look at what they probably will have to. If they are for becoming independent, then I see no other reason that we should not."

It was then that the congress unanimously agreed to break for the night.

* * *

The next day, most of the delegates had arrived on time. They were all gathered outside the actual meeting room, waiting for the maids to finish cleaning. Adams was talking to Franklin when he noticed Alfred and Connie outside of the building.

Alfred was glaring at another man with blonde hair and green eyes. Connie was hiding behind her brother, with a fearful look on her face.

"I- we- are not coming back, Arthur!" Alfred's angry shout brought the attention of the delegates. They all quieter, and shifted around to get a better view of what was going on outside. Many of them were surprised to see that the usually jovial nation looked furious.

"Matthew doesn't have a problem with me!" The man, Arthur, shouted back.

"Because my brother doesn't have a spine!" Alfred spat, coldly.

"Well at least he is reasonable! And doesn't go splitting himself in half!" He shouted, looking at Connie. She cowered back, burying her face into Alfred's back.

"Leave her out of this! I am done with you and your stupid taxes and acts and your stupid BLOODY KING!"

"Alfred F. Jones!" Arthur roared, instantly furious. "You listen to me-"

"No! You listen to me!" He seethed. "I am sick and tired of you! Get your head out of your ass and just take you and your damn tea drinking bastards out of my country!"

"Those 'tea drinking bastards' are the reason you are where you are today! Maybe I should have left you and your ungrateful arse in that damn field where I found you!" Instantly, everyone could tell Arthur regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

A hurt look crossed Alfred's face, before it quickly morphed into something more neutral. "Well, maybe I should have chosen Francis or Antonio." His voice showed no sign of sadness or anger. It was cold.

Arthur turned on his heels and left, stiffly. Alfred pried Connie's arms off of his waist and knelt down to her eye level. Her big blue orbs were filled with fright. Alfred sighed, wrapping her into a hug and kissing her head.

The delegates watched the scene in front of them with different variations of shock. Neither Alfred nor Connie seemed to have realized convree has been watching the entire ordeal.

"C'mon, Connie." He sighed, standing up and taking her hand. "Let's skip today. I'm sure they won't mind much." With that, Alfred walked down the street, opposite of the way Arthur had gone.

"That-that was England." Jefferson said, face white as a sheet.

Franklin nodded grimly. "We must remember that this war isn't just about us gaining our independence. This is Alfred breaking away from his father."

There were quiet murmurs and small talk as the delegates shuffled their way into the meeting room, but none of them could forget the exchange they had just witnessed.

"Who was that brother they mentioned?" Adams asked.

"Probably Canada." Franklin said knowingly. "Alfred once mentioned him; he seemed a bit hurt."

"His own brother refused to help him break away from England." Jefferson shook his head. "Poor boy must have been devastated."

"Dear girl must not even know what is happening," another delegate commented, referring to Connie.

"He mentioned a Francis? And an Antonio?" One asked, confused.

"Francis is rather obvious, is it not?" Franklin looked at him with an amused expression from above his glasses. Said delegate flushed. "And I believe the name Antonio is Spanish."

During the meeting, they organized a group that would be in charge of writing the declaration. Said group consisted of Franklin, Adams, Livingston, Sherman, and Jefferson (much to his chagrin).

After the meeting ended, these men were gathered together in the hall, arguing about who would write the declaration.

"Whoa, what's going on here?" Alfred asked, appearing in the hall while holding Connie's hand.

"Trying to decide who will write the declaration." Adams grumbled. "No one in congress likes me; they will deny it immediately if I write it! Franklin refuses to write about politics, Livingston's wife has given birth back in New York, and Sherman claims he has no skill set in writing." Adams glared at the other men. Then he glanced at Jefferson, who was trying (and failing) to make himself blend into the wall. "Ah! Mr. Jefferson!"

Jefferson sighed, and groaned. "I've told you before, John! I am returning home to see my wife in Virginia."

"This is more important!" Adams insisted.

"You are the best writer in congress." Alfred pointed out.

"I yearn for my wife, Adams." Jefferson glared.

"Well, so do I yet you don't see me complaining!" Adams argued.

"I burn!" Jefferson lowered his voice, a flush appearing on his cheeks.

"What does that mean?" Connie asked innocently, cocking her head slightly to the right. The men stared at her, a bit taken aback, as they had forgotten she was there. Alfred looked horrified and covered her ears.

"Little ears, guys." He glared.

After quickly apologizing, Adams managed to convince (force) Jefferson into writing the declaration.

"...we hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal. that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness..." Jefferson read aloud.

Connie leaned into her brother, a smile on her face. Alfred wrapped an arm around her. "Nothing will be the same after this." He said.

The eight-year-old looked at him, and smiled. "What did you expect?"

"You know, Connie, you're a lot smarter than people think."

"Of course." She said, mimicking Alfred's signature grin. He laughed a little at that.

"Oh Alfie! I had a question! I was thinking, since we are tied to the land, does that mean I am technically your age?"

Alfred blinked. He had not thought of that. "I suppose so. Though Nations do grow at a rather odd rate. It all depends on how their fast their people and land grow. You can turn into an eighteen year old tomorrow for all I know." He said jokingly, causing her to laugh. "I mean, Arthur left me for a couple months and when he returned, I was taller than him!"

"Alfie..."

"Yes?" He asked, concerned at how serious her tone of voice was.

"Are you going to sign up for General Washington's army?"

Alfred paused. He had considered it, of course. This was his war, he should be at the front lines. But he remembered how lonely he and Canada had been as children when Arthur constantly left.

"You want to." She added, knowingly.

He sighed. "Of course I do. But I need to look after you."

"I'll be fine." She said, confident.

"Who will watch you?"

Her smile grew. "Dr. Franklin and I were talking about this, when you went to check up on Jefferson! He said that he'd be more than willing to watch after me while you're gone! And he's gonna teach me how to write better, so that I can write you!"

Alfred was still hesitant. "I don't know, Connie. We'll talk about this later. Just enjoy the fireworks for now, alright kiddo?"

"Sure. By the way, does this mean that July 4th is now our birthday?"


	3. Revolutionary War Part 3

**September 1776**

"Connie, you can't go!"

"But Alfred-"

"No!"

"Please! I can't just sit around here all day until Dr. Franklin returns! Let me go to France, please! I know how much you want to join Washington, it'll be like a win-win situation!" She begged, eyes pleading. "Franklin will take good care of me; and Uncle Francis will be there!"

"That's what I'm worried about." He muttered to himself. The seven year old gave him a confused look.

"And from his letters, Francis already loves me! Maybe I can try to convince him!" Her eyes were bright.

"If I may, Alfred." Benjamin cut in. "It seems it would be a great experience for Connie. As she is a growing Nation, it seems important that she learns about this stuff for herself, perhaps first hand."

"She's a BABY compared to the rest of us! Have you seen China? He's freaking OLD."

Benjamin just smiled at him. Connie looked up at him hopefully. Finally, Alfred broke. "Alright, fine."

Connie gave a shrill squeal of joy, that could be heard throughout the colonies. She hugged her brother tightly, despite the fact that the top of her head barely reached his chest. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

"Yeah yeah. But I want you to write every single day! Even if you don't have anything to say! Just write down whatever you ate for breakfast or something, understood?"

"Yes!" She squealed again, letting go and running out the door, singing, "I'm going to Paris! I'm going to Paris!"

Alfred just sighed. "I feel like I just made a really bad mistake."

And so, in October of 1776, the North and South of America separated.

* * *

_October 28th, 1776_

_Dear Alfred,_

_I'm writing you from the boat. It's really shaky, and I got a bit sick. But Franklin says its just because its my first time in the ocean, and that after a while, I'll get used to it. I probably won't be able to mail this until we get there, but oh well._

_With love,_

_Connie I. Jones_

* * *

_December 8th, 1776_

_Dear Alfred,_

_We just reached France! I'm attaching this letter to the other one. Dr. Franklin and I arrived at this really pretty building and we were introduced to a bunch of people there. Francis wasn't there, though. When I asked where he was, the man just chuckled and gave me this look and said, "You'll find out when you're older." What is that supposed to mean?_

_With love,_

_Connie I. Jones_

_P.S. I'm assuming you won't get this for a few weeks, so happy Christmas!_

* * *

_January 5,1777_

_Dear Connie,_

_It is good to hear that you arrived safely and are doing well. Happy Chistmas, as well as New Years'. And about Francis... Ah, you'll find out eventually._

_I met up with Washington and his troops back in Pennsylvania. It's frezing cold. I had a bad feeling about this winter. People's spirits were low, enlistments were almost over too. I was afraid everyone was going to desert. But General Washington is apparently a man of many miracles. We crossed the Deleware on the night of the 25th and took the Hessians in Trenton by surprise. Then, we crossed again and defeated the British reinforcements again at Trenton, then at Princeton! I haven't felt this good in a long time, not since the British took New York. How is everything going on in Paris?_

_With love,_

_Alfred F. Jones_

_P.S. Say 'hello' to Benjamin and Francis, will you?_

* * *

_February 1, 1777_

_Dear Alfred,_

_France doesn't feel like they should publicly announce their alliance with America just yet. That would be an act of war against England. I was speaking to Francis personally, and he said that he has tried to convince King Louis, but until they are sure we can win a battle against the British, all the support we are getting is in secret._

_In a lighter news, Francis is teaching me how to fire a musket. I was complaining to him how no one would teach me (and I've asked quite a few fellows), and he agreed to teach me! I also met a friendly man named Marquis de Lafayette. I hope I'm spelling that correctly... I like him. He seems so dedicated for the American cause, it's surprising. He seems to carry more resolve than most Americans do!_

_With love,_

_Connie I. Jones_

* * *

_March 16, 1777_

_Dear Connie,_

_Things aren't looking too good here, if I'm being honest. Morale is low as it has ever been. Barely anyone has re-enlisted. It's awful. At least the British don't like fighting in the cold; otherwise we'd be done for. That's wonderful, Connie. I'm sorry for not being able to teach you. And we need people like this Lafayette fellow. It'd be wonderful if he were to come here, I'd like to meet him._

_With love,_

_Alfred F. Jones_

* * *

_April 21, 1777_

_Dear Alfred,_

_You wouldn't believe it! Lafayette left France, against the wishes of the king himself! He is headed to America, I heard him speaking to his wife. She's pregnant by the way. I often help her watch her daughter, Henrietta. She's adorable. Apparently, there was a nations meeting the other day. France told me to wait outside, but I went in anyways._

_It was weird. Germany was scary, in my opinion. His brother has white hair and red eyes, but he's nice enough. I think you'd like him. England wouldn't stop looking at me. I can't tell why, but he looked almost in pain. Italy was nice (but his brother isn't). He kept smiling and squealing "PASTA!" Every other minute. The Nordics (Denmark, Iceland, Finland, Sweden, and Norway) are pretty scary. I like Hungary though. I also met Netherlands and Spain. I can see why you like them. There was this really tall guy with a scarf and a creepy smile. I didn't really trust him, but as you always taught me, don't judge a book by its cover. Most of them were mean, though. They kept saying how I shouldn't be there, because I was a child. When I told them I was southern America, England just left the room and the rest began laughing. They were a bunch of meanies._

_With love,_

_Connie I. Jones_

* * *

_June 16, 1777_

_Dear Connie,_

_You were right when you said Lafayette was coming here. I just met him a few days ago. He seems like an honest man. He arrived on the 13th in Charleston, where I was vising an old friend. You know, Major Huger? We're gonna head up to congress in a couple weeks to see if they will let him join. And I cannot believe you attended your first nation meeting! I always thought I'd be there to hold your hand and walk you through those doors. And I wouldn't listen to them, it's obvious they wouldn't believe you about to whole America thing. You can go brag to them when we win the war._

_With love,_

_Alfred F. Jones_

* * *

_July 4, 1777_

_Dear Alfred,_

_Happy birthday! I am happy to hear that Lafayette arrived with little issues. Still no news about France. Franklin and I are still pushing to have them make a formal alliance, but at this point, it truly is up to you as to whether or not they decide to assist us further in the war. I hope you are feeling well. The patriot and loyalist controversies across the country is still giving me a headache._

_With love,_

_Connie I. Jones_

* * *

_July 31, 1777_

_Dear Connie,_

_We lost Fort Ticonderoga. On a brighter note, Lafayette volunteered to serve without pay after congress refused to commission him. However, he hasn't been assigned to a unit. I'm afraid he may return home. That would be problematic and may cause France to hesitate further in an alliance. It would be of great help if perhaps someone gave Lafayette more credibilty. I hope you are feeling better with the headaches; I'm getting them as well._

_With love,_

_Alfred F. Jones_

* * *

_September 1, 1777_

_Dear Alfred,_

_I've spoken to Ben and he told me he already wrote a letter of recommendation to General Washington. I wrote him one as well. Hopefully, it will encourage France to send more aid. I hope the letter arrived with with no problems. And knowing Washington, he will likely accept it. It's a shame to hear about Ticonderoga. By the way, how you feeling? In a letter, Washington expressed concern for you ever since we lost New York. He mentioned you're still feeling rather ill._

_With love,_

_Connie I. Jones_

* * *

_October 9, 1777_

_Dear Connie,_

_You wouldn't believe it, Connie! General Burgoyne attempted to lead his troops down from Canada, but was stopped in upstate New York. After eighteen days, they finally surrendered his entire army! It is a great relief, after all. Had he succeeded, he might have been able to cut off the New England Colonies from the rest of us. Probably wouldn't have felt too good._

_The bad news, however, is the loss of Philadelphia. I believe you probably felt it, as it is where congress currently is. They are going to have ti be relocated, but I am not going to mention where in case this letter falls into the wrong hands. You never can be too careful nowadays. Anyways, Washington had us retreat to Valley Forge for the winter. I hope you are well._

_With love,_

_Alfred F. Jones_

* * *

October 17, 1777

It was yet another world meeting, and somehow, once again in Paris. Not many people were paying Connie any mind. She just sighed and watched the rest of the nations bicker like children, holding her rabbit. She placed him on the table, closing her eyes.

All of a sudden, she felt a stab at her heart. The room spun, and her stomach churned. A strangled cry escaped her lips as she fell off the chair, eyes shut tightly. At once, the rest of the nations fell silent and turned their heads to look at the young girl. It took a total of two seconds of absolute shock for France, Netherlands (surprisingly), Prussia, and Spain to jump out of their seats and rush to check on her.

"Constantina?" France shook her shoulders, in panic. "Can you hear me?"

She curled into her self, shaking and spasming. Her eyes were closed, and her teeth were clenched.

"What is happening?" Netherlands demanded.

"She-she's having a seizure." Spain realized, eyes wide.

"Why? What is going on?" Prussia asked.

"I don't know!" France snapped, holding her tightly. "All we can do is wait for it to finish." There was a tense silence in the room. For several minutes, the young girl stayed wrapped in France's arms, spasming every so often and shaking violently. Eventually, it passed. Her eyes slowly opened again.

"Ph-phila-" she mumbled, incoherently.

"Connie, stop talking, you need to rest."

"N-no!" She weakly tried pushing France away. "Ph-philadelphia." She croaked.

"That is her capital, is it not?" Prussia realized.

A tear suddenly fell down her cheek. "They took it." She murmured, faintly pushing herself up to a sitting position. Connie blinked a couple of times and looked up at the rest of the nations, who were watching the exchange with shock. "They took it!" She was hysterical. Connie pointed at England. "He took my capital- my heart! Alfred- oh my god Alfred!" Her heart rate quickened, and she began panicking.

The nations stared at England, who watched the entire ordeal with a stoic face. It had obviously occured to him that this girl, Connie, should be, and could be, his little sister. He watched her small body wrack with pain, heart breaking at the sight.

"What is she talking about?" China sneered. "The girl is speaking gibberish."

"She isn't." England looked at them with an emotionless face. "We have taken over Philadelphia, their capital."

There was a ringing silence, only broken by France's attempts to calm the distraught girl.

"Stop, Connie." France shook her gently. "Snap out of it. He cannot die, I'm sure young Amerique is fine."

She suddenly broke into a smile. Even France had to take a step back, a tad bit unnerved. "Of course he will be fine!" Connie beamed, grabbing onto Spain's arm and struggling to pull herself up. Prussia gripped her other arm, helping her stand. She turned and grinned at England.

"We won Saratoga. Burgoyne surrendered! Haha!" She beamed. England suddenly spat out his tea, eyes widening in shock. This war had already gone on for longer than they had expected- and wanted. Their losses in Trenton and New Jersey had been humiliating enough, but now, his general had SURRENDERED?

The nations were now openly gaping at the young, rather gleeful girl. She wore a positive grin on her face, as though she had not just suffered a seizure a minute beforehand. Connie smiled even wider as she saw the shock in the room. The entire world obviously knew of the war that was going on, and no one expected that they would last this long. But to have the British, the world's superpower, surrender to a small colony, struggling to become their own nation with limited supplies and forces? It was unheard of. They had thought that the capture of Philadelphia would be the final blow against them. But then again, that's also what they thought about New York.

Connie was positively gleeful. She turned to France cheerfully. "Over a thousand casualties and over six thousand captured. Now, let's see about this alliance, shall we?" With that, the bubbly young nation took one last glance at the shell-shocked countries before picking up her rabbit, and skipped out of the room.

France turned to look at England's stony face. "Angleterre, are you-"

"I am fine, Francis." His voice was cold. "I believe this meeting is coming to a close. You seem to have some business to attend to anyways."

* * *

_November 15, 1777_

_Dear Alfred,_

_You have no idea how happy I felt when I learned to the news about Saratoga. I suffered from a seizure when the British formally took over Philadelphia, but at the same time, I felt the victory at Saratoga. Why might that be? I thought I was only the south. I think it's because of how important the battle was, but I don't know. Franklin and I have managed to convince the French to formally ally themselves with us. Franklin and the rest of the delegates will spend the next few months negotiating. I, on the other hand, have decided to return home. I've realized it is where I truly belong. Hopefully, I shall return by Christmas, if not, then by the New Years' arrival. By the time you receive this, hopefully, I will only be a few days away from home. Take care of yourself until then, Alfred._

_With love,_

_Connie I. Jones_


	4. Revolutionary War Part 4

_Guest chapter 1 . Jul 28_

_Because having a super racist loosely tied group of states that all go their ass kicked is totally kawaii right?_  
_It's not like all the south wasn't actually a part of it or anything. It's not like there is more to the US than the north and south_

******RE: Uh, I actually don't know how to respond to that. But it's a fanfic, and it's mine. So don't like, don't read dude :)**

_FanfikFreakazoid chapter 3 . Jul 26_

_The story is really good! I love all the historical events mentions. Keep up the good work!_

___chapter 2 . Jul 25_

_Ahh, please update soon! I love the story so far!_

******RE: Aww, thanks :) xoxo**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**December 25, 1777 - Christmas Morning**

Alfred sat next to his fellow men, watching the fire cackle. He suddenly felt the presence of another man. He heard Lafayette gasp from beside him.

"General Washington!" Lafayette exclaimed.

Alfred turned, and smiled at him weakly. "Good evening." He greeted, fingers shoving into his pockets and feeling the crinkled and slightly wet parchment of Connie's last letter.

"There is someone here to see you." He smiled, stepping to the side.

There stood a young girl, perhaps fourteen years old. She had long, wavy brown hair that went down and beyond her shoulders. Her big blue eyes sparkled despite the bitter cold. She wore a deep red cloak with the hood up. She carried a basket with a cloth covering its contents, and wore a pair of blue wool gloves. Beneath her tightly wrapped cloak, he could see the young girl was wearing- oddly enough- a pair of brown trousers and a white shirt, complete with black winter boots. He stared for a second, mind attempting to process this familiar face.

"Alfred." She said, breathless. Alfred's eyes widened and his mind clicked.

"Connie! You've gotten so big!" He stood up and wrapped his little sister in a tight hug. He had missed her so dearly in the past year. When they finally broke apart, Connie smiled kindly at Lafayette.

"Would you mind passing this out?" She took the cloth off of the basket, took her bunny out, and handed him the basket. Lafayette looked at the remaining object in the basket. His eyes widened at the sight of a huge basket filled with warm bread.

"Thank you kindly, dear Madam Jones." He took her hand and brushed his lips onto her knuckles, much like she had seen Francis do on several occasions. "I am sure they will appreciate this." She waved it aside and watched Lafayette leave.

"Perhaps we shall move the discussion to your hut?" Washington suggested. As they got out of the snow, Connie sat on Alfred's bed, still holding and petting Fluffy. She pulled down her hood, and smiled.

"It's good to be back," she said.

"How was your trip?"

"It was long and agonizing. How was your stay in Valley Forge so far?"

"It was long and agonizing." He joked. "When did you arrive?"

"Well, **we** arrived in Boston on the first of December. It took two weeks to get to York, especially in the bloody cold."

"Why did you go to York?" Alfred blinked, confused. "Why not just come straight here?"

"I was getting to that." She rolled her eyes as she adjusted the white bonnet on her head. "When I arrived, I came with a few special guests."

"What guests?" Alfred furrowed his eyebrows together with confusion.

"Prussia and a man named Fredrich von Steuben." Her smile grew. "After staying in Philadelphia for a little while and settling them in, I finally got a ride to Valley Forge last night. I met up with General Washington to inform him of their arrival, and decided I'd see you in the morning."

"Yes but WHO are they?" Alfred pressed.

"He's a professional Prussian military officer. More importantly, he's a man who can train your army." She grinned.

After two months of struggle, starvation, and damned cold, they received word that the great military officer would be arriving soon.

On February 23, 1778, Von Steuben and the personification of Prussia entered the camp of Valley Forge. He was greeted by Washington, Alfred, and Connie.

They toured the camp, with Connie and Prussia acting as translators.

Alfred nudged his sister. "When did you learn German?" He asked.

She looked at him. "I got bored." She said truthfully. "I spent an entire year in a huge manor in France with a library the size of our street in Philadelphia. Not to mention I had to deal with a bunch of damn stubborn thunderheads who believed that because I am a female child I had no say as to any negotiations Franklin and I were trying to make regarding the alliance. So, needless to say, I've had a bit of time on my hands."

Her rant was translated by a very amused Prussia, causing her to glare at the albino and mutter to herself in French.

* * *

"The changes are rather impressive," she admitted later as she looked over a plan Steuben had drawn up himself. "It makes sense."

Prussia chuckled. "Of course it is! It's awesome!" He grinned wolfishly at the young girl. They were speaking quietly in the hut she shared with Alfred, who had long since retired and gone to sleep.

It was past midnight at this point, but she couldn't help but go through Steuben's writing with great awe.

Connie looked at Prussia through the candlelight, and suddenly realized that the Prussian seemed plenty younger than he truly was. Physically, he was perhaps seventeen years old, only physically about three years older (Though biologically... that was a whole 'nother story).

"Truly, it's impressive." She hummed to herself.

"And you would know much about military strategies?" He lightly teased her.

Connie glanced at him again before going back to focus on the book written in German. "Like I said before, I spent an entire bloody year with nothing to do but read, write, and yell at the poor translator to yell at the stupid French officials who believed women had a certain place in society." She grumbled.

"I don't believe that." He said, to her great surprise.

"Mm hmm." She said disbelief in her tone of voice. "Even the nations believe it. That's why there are so few female nations, and the few there are often don't speak much. Or rather, they aren't really allowed to speak."

"Not all of us. Like, didn't teach you to fire a musket?"

"Yes, because I asked him."

"That's not the only reason and you know that. Despite people calling him a pervert, it's pretty obvious Francis has a huge respect for women. Ever wondered why?" Prussia pressed. Connie put the book down finally to look at her red eyed companion.

"I know why; it's because of Jeanne D'arc. He told me he met a strong woman, like a warrior, that helped him in the Hundred Years' War."

"Did he ever tell you the full story?" Prussia gave a grim smile at her curious looking face. "Of course he didn't. Francis was in love with this woman. She was beautiful, smart, courageous, and determined, according to him. However, it is almost like a taboo for nations to fall in love with humans."

"How?"

"No one knows why. It just happens. And it had happened to pretty much each nation at least once." He frowned. "For France, that was Jeanne D'arc."

"How is it a taboo though?" She reappeared.

"Because Jeanne was captured by the British and burnt at the stake." His quiet words rang clear in the silent cabin. Her eyes were wide. "England apologized for it many years later after he lost his dear Elizabeth from sickness. He suddenly understood the pain Francis felt when Ueanne D'arc died."

"And what about you?" She heard the question slip out of her lips. He looked at her.

"What about me?" His eyebrows rose.

"You said every nation has had this issue before. Who did you fall in love with?" It was then that Connie realized just how close the Prussian was. His face was barely two inches from hers. She felt her cheeks color slightly at the close proximity.

"Does it matter?" He whispered, closing the gap and gently placing his lips on hers.

They sat there for a few seconds, Prussia waiting to see how she would react. Connie's eyes were wide, before she eventually closed them and relaxed slightly as she placed her arms around his neck. He smiled into the kiss and wrapped his arms around her waist.

A thought suddenly occurred to her, causing her to yank away. Prussia blinked, looking at her.

It wasn't that she didn't want or like the kiss- quite the opposite really. "I-I'm sorry." she mumbled, cheeks red. "I can't- I'm sorry."

But Prussia just smiled. "Understandable. You're in a war."

"And I can't afford to be distracted." She finished, and smiled weakly back.

"You know where to find me after you win." Prussia said calmly, standing up. She stood up as well, rising on her tippy toes to place a kiss on his cheek. Prussia left the hut, causing her to shiver as a brief cold wind entered the hut.

* * *

**The Next Day**

"Alfred, what's wrong?" Prussia snapped. The young boy blinked a few times, looking at him.

"Nothing." He lied.

"Right. On the battle field, you must have complete focus. Otherwise, you die." Prussia smiled cheerfully. "Therefore, any distracting thoughts must be let go. Tell me what is on your mind."

"Well, a lot of things. Anti-Washington movements, Connie, the distracting way Steuben is screaming in rapid fire German at the poor translator to sweat at the soldiers, Philadelphia." He listed.

"I can't so much about Steuben, that's in his nature." Prussia smirked. "And if you weren't worried about this war, then I'd be concerned. And you shouldn't worry about Washington; no one would dare try to kick him off. Philadelphia... You'll get it back, I can promise you that. As for Connie, however, I'm not sure I understand that. She even left this morning."

"I know. She went to ask congress for supplies again." Alfred muttered, remembering that moment of absolute panic when he woke up and realized she wasn't in bed. "She's so grown now..." He blinked. "The last time I saw her, she looked like a seven year old."

Prussia patted his shoulder. "It's the problem with us nations. But no matter how old she is, Connie is still your little sister."

"Then is Arthur still my big brother?" Alfred asked. Prussia raised an eyebrow.

"That's for you to decide. During the world meetings, when I first met Connie, you would be surprised at how determined she was. Whenever we began arguing, she had no problem shouting at everyone to stop acting like children. And whenever someone called her out on her being a child, well," Prussia chuckled, "it was amusing, to say the least."

Alfred felt a flare of pride at the thought. "My greatest fear is she'll do what I did and breakaway."

"I cannot promise you that won't happen. But your relationship with Connie is different than Arthur's relationship with you, remember that. Your relationship with Connie sometimes makes me feel a bit nostalgic about mein bruder." Prussia sighed regretfully, remembering the fact that his little brother was on the other side of the world right now.

"After Saratoga, I'm afraid of what the British plan to do next." Alfred sighed. "I've heard rumors of them going south, but we are powerless to try and stop them."

"Have faith in the men down south." He said comfortingly. "If the British dare step in the southern colonies, they'll be kicked out so fast, they won't even see it!"

Alfred smiled at the confidence. "Thanks, Prussia. Now, what were you saying about bayonets?"


	5. Revolutionary War Part 5 (Final)

Connie hopped off the wagon as it entered the quiet city of York. She hurried to the familiar building of congress, knocking on the door. The loud voices inside quieted. The door opened to a familiar face.

John Adams' eyes widened. "Connie! Come in, quickly." He held the door open for her.

Connie smiled and stepped in, trying not the trek snow inside. "Thank you. How are you, John?"

"Good, thank you. How is Alfred? Haven't seen the young lad since we visited in January."

"He's fine. Well, if by fine you mean being trained by a loud and obnoxious Prussian, then yes, he's fine." Her smile widened.

John Adams nodded at her, leading her into the meeting room, allowing the rest of congress greeted her.

"General Washington sent me to speak to you about sending more supplies. I know you are trying your best, but men are dying there. It's awful." She breathed, smile disappearing. "We need those food and blankets. Only one in every three men even have shoes!"

A new delegate stood up, eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute, who are you to come in here to demand stuff from us?!"

Connie just glanced in his direction. "Oh, a newbie. You never told him?"

The man just sputtered in surprise when Adams shook his head. "No. We didn't think we'd have to."

"Fair enough." She turned to him, holding his arm out. "I'm Connie, otherwise known as the personification of America, mostly the southern part."

Jefferson surprisingly spoke up, "Connie... Are you wearing... Trousers?" He sounded scandalized.

Connie slowly blinked. "Uh, yes?" It sounded more as a question than anything else.

"Honesty, Connie, it isn't proper-"

"Leave the poor girl alone, Jefferson." Adams rolled his eyes. "I'm sure it is more comfortable than most women's usual attire."

"You wouldn't know half of it!" She complained. "Alfred didn't even recognize me when I first showed up."

"Well considering you appeared to be seven years old just last year..."

"True. Anyways, General Washington sent me to ask for more supplies once more. We just haven't gotten any!"

"Understandable." John Hancock nodded. "The process is slow in the winter."

"So are their deaths." Connie snarked back, scowling. Most of congress were taken aback, surprised by her harsh tone of voice. She sighed, and collapsed in an empty chair.

"Apologies, this war is giving me a headache." She rubbed her temples tiredly.

The new delegate spoke up once more, finally getting the shock to wear off. "You mean to tell me that America is a person?! And a woman no less?"

Congress simultaneously sighed, looking at the poor fellow with pity.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Connie narrowed her eyes at him, threateningly.

"Yes! How do I know you are telling the truth? You could be insane for all I know! Usually when General Washington sends women to us, they bow respectfully and silently give us a letter in which he wrote personally, not send a child holding a rabbit as a messenger."

The rest of the men held their breaths, pitying the poor soul.

Her smile was still in place as her blue eyes fixed onto him. "I am the personification of America, and you should believe me because without me, the country you are currently living it would be nonexistent." She spat. "And you are from Georgia, no less? One of my own colonies."

"Connie, you are not allowed to assault anyone. Not after last time." Adams muttered the last part, but everyone heard.

"Fine." She grumbled, scratching her rabbit's ear. "You want proof? The Declaration of Independence is my birth certificate. My full name is Constantina I. Jones."

"What does the I stand for?" Jefferson suddenly asked. She looked at him, and paused. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, but she shook her head.

"I should probably be leaving soon..."

"There is a blizzard coming, it may be best that you stay in York until the storm passes." Hancock said.

She looked out the window, and sighed.

"And besides," A delegate from Pennsylvania asked with deep curiosity. "We have questions. How is Steuben?"

"And Lafayette!" Another one added.

"And you never did tell us about France."

"I'll stay, and answer your questions." She began, causing the congressmen to watch her with great interest. "If..."

"If what?"

"You can guess my middle name. One guess each person."

"Isabella?"

"Irene?"

"Ida?"

"Iris?"

"Ivy?"

"Ingrid?"

But no matter what they guessed, Connie just shook her head and smiled.

When it was Adams' turn, he just sighed and said, "Indigo?"

"Man, I thought you would have guessed it." She pouted. "I'm surprised no one got it, it's quite obvious."

"Hold on a second, Connie." Jefferson stood, looking rather amused. "I believe I have yet to go."

"Go ahead then. Take a wild guess."

A smile flitted the man's face. "Independence. Constantina Independence Jones."

The room was filled with her laughter. "Congratulations, Jefferson!" She beamed, jumping off the table she sat upon to gleefully shake his hand.

"You middle name is... Independence?" Adams asked, incredulous.

"Hey, I didn't choose my name. Alfred did."

"And his middle name is..."

"Freedom. Yep! Technically, he changed it. His original middle name was Foster." She shrugged. "Okay, question time."

The rest of the night was spent with Connie telling tales of her time at Valley Forge, training with Prussia, translating Steuben's German (as well as his... Explicit, language), helping Martha Washington and the rest of the women, and playing with and watching the children. She praised Lafayette and Steuben on their work and contribution, and then launched into a story of her time spent in France.

"So you were physically seven years old when you left... And then returned as a fourteen year old?" One delegate asked.

"Yeah. Nations age a bit strangely. It all depends on how fast their country develops. Most nations stayed children for a centuries, according to them. That's because most countries took a long time to develop, and usually just started off as little towns and grew into huge empires over a long period of time. But I was literally born into war, so naturally, I physically grew up a lot faster than normal. Though Prussia and Alfred both did tell me I still have the mentality of a five year old." They couldn't tell whether or not she was joking about that.

"I have a question." One delegate spoke up. "Why do you refer to your brother as America? What is your nation name?" He asked curiously.

She looked thoughtful. "Never really considered that. Most Nations are born with their country name, I guess I'm an exception, once again. But it's not unheard of. The Italy brothers are like that too. We refer to North as Italy or Veneziano and South as Romano."

"So you need a name." Hancock said.

"Perhaps... They got their names from their cities, I believe."

"How about Richelle?" Jefferson spoke up.

Everyone looked at the quiet man. "Richelle. Feminine form of Richmond, Virginia." The Virginian man reiterated.

"Brilliant! Richelle it is." A smile grew on her face.

* * *

**Early April 1778**

It was during yet another trip from Valley Forge when she heard the news. That evening, she burst into camp. The soldiers watched with great curiosity at the young, familar girl as she ran between the men and navigated her way to the commander's tent.

"WASHINGTON!" She panted, out of breath. "The-the French! They signed an Alliance Pact with us on February 6!" A smile lit his face.

"That is great news. It is good to see we are ending this horrendous winter on a good note."

The news spread through camp like a wildfire. Prussia smiled at the young girl's enthusiasm when she told him the news. She jumped onto him, hugging him tightly. "It's brilliant!" He laughed.

"I know!" She kissed his cheek, causing both of their faces to blossom matching shades of red.

* * *

**June 28, 1778**

The celebration that rang through the atmosphere was truly amazing. Their victory at Monmouth had reassured their recapture of their capital. America and Richelle hadn't felt that good in a long time. It was like someone filled in a hole that was missing in their body.

"It won't last long." Prussia told her regretfully, after the celebrations were over and they stared at the night sky.

"Then let's enjoy it while we can." She replied, calm. Richelle's signature smile appeared, and she sipped her drink calmly.

"Mon ami, she is correct." France raised his wine glass merrily. "I have spoken to Spain, by the way, when it was made clear we are your allies. He is more than happy to help."

"Wonderful." America grinned. "May Britain eat out dust."

"Here here." Prussia smirked.

* * *

Prussia was right when he said that the victory would only be so sweet for so long. It was December when it happened. She was in congress this time, talking privately with Jefferson when she suddenly gasped. She clutched her stomach, eyes squeezing shut.

"Richelle, what's wrong?"

She groaned, withering onto the ground. "We-we just lost Savannah." She gasped, breathing heavily.

Jefferson spun on his heels, "Someone get Alfred! And someone else get her some water!" He looked at the young girl with sympathy. She was too young to have to deal with this.

Richelle grunted, "I'm fine."

"You look like you've been stabbed in the stomach." Adams told her.

"I feel like I have." She attempted to joke.

To put it mildly, the next three years were shit for her. Constant headaches, fatigues, stomachaches, and random times when she would just not have enough energy to get out of bed. It got to the point where they were afraid that she would die. Alfred was a wreck. He had felt them too, of course, just at a smaller scale. He was constantly on France's and Spain's cases for the limited amount of aid.

"My sister might be dying! Where is the help you promised?!"

"I'm sorry, Amerique! There is only so much I can do!" France shouted back, defeated.

"No, I'm fine." She insisted, wincing. "Even if we tactically lose, with every battle, we weaken them, and we can fight on."

It wasn't until 1780 that over 5000 French soldiers arrived, much to the relief of many (mostly Alfred). It was what to do with them that caused most of the controversy.

"According to one of my spies, Cornwallis is in Yorktown, waiting for a British fleet." Washington said, pointing at the area of land near Chesapeake Bay.

"Admiral de Grasse can meet us there with his ships." Prussia dragged his finger from the West Indies to the bay.

Rochambeau, a French general, nodded. "You can march down there, and meet Lafayette in the south, while we arrive through the Delaware River."

"Oui. Right here," France pointed on the opposite side of the town where the British were. "We'd be able to meet Lafayette and Richelle."

"And we'd be able to surround them, cutting them off by both land and sea." Alfred nodded, liking the sound of this plan. "But if we do this, that means the British will still occupy New York."

"If this plan works, Amerique," France replied, "we won't have to worry about them much longer."

* * *

September 28, 1781

Alfred ran ahead of the others, grinning at his little sister. She wore a proud smile on her face as she ran towards him. There was a bundle of brown hair before she launched herself at him, hugging him tightly as the two armies met.

They watched as Lafayette and Washington greeted each ofher jovially. Immediately, they got to work.

It was a matter of days before the British troops began to run low on supplies. Soon, food and water ran out. Their defenses breached, and Lord Cornwallis would soon have no choice but to retreat.

One stormy night, Alfred returned to camp. His face was pale, and his uniform was soaked. His knuckles were white from gripping his musket.

"Alfred!" Richelle stood up. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Alfred just shook his head, and walked back to his tent to change. Richelle looked at Prussia with a concerned look on her face. He squeezed her hand reassuringly.

Alfred laid in bed thinking of his encounter with England. Nothing would be the same after this, he realized. Though, he knew it ever since the Shot Heard 'Round the World happened, nearly six years ago. England had broken down. He couldn't fight anymore, Alfred thought. He was tired of it.

The next morning, the sound of drums echoed in the dawn. The telling white flag being marched down the battlefield by a solemn man wearing red. The British had surrendered.

Several days later

England sat on the ground of the dark room, lit only by sun streaming through the barred window. He heard the door open, and turned to see a familar blonde haired man enter the room.

"America." He didn't recognize his own voice.

"England." He replied quietly. "King George has surrendered. Ships will be arriving shortly to take you back to Britain."

"Fine." His voice was flat.

But Alfred didn't leave just yet. He didn't know what to say. Alfred sighed mentally, staring at the back of his former older brother sadly. Finally, his hand reached out to open the door again, but he heard England speak up.

"Alfred? That girl, Connie, her name was."

"What about Connie?" Alfred asked, wary. England stood up, so that he was about eye level with him.

"She's your little sister, correct?"

"Yes..." He looked outside, where both he and England could see Connie outside in the field, today wearing an actual dress. She had kicked her shoes off and removed the bonnet from her brown hair that had twin braids. She was laughing, the cheerful innocence ringing through the afternoon sky airily. They watched as she fell backwards into the grass beside the tall Prussian, who was giving his signature, "Kesesese!"

"Don't get too comfortable." His voice was hard. "She won't be like that forever. One of these days, that innocent little kid will break your heart. And the next thing you know, she'll have a musket pointed at your chest while her friends draft a document entailing her independence."

"Arthur..." He said in a cold and warning tone.

"I am merely warning you." England's face was even. "They don't stay innocent forever. Enjoy it while you can. That little, fourteen year old girl won't be that forever, I promise you that. She's gonna grow up, breaking your heart in the process."

"Well, until that day comes, we'll enjoy the independence." Alfred said coldly, turning and leaving without another look.


	6. The Civil War Part 1

**1860**

It was the 16th presidential elections. Alfred and Connie sat in the living room of their home in silence, awaiting the messenger that would arrive as soon as the votes were counted.

"You know, no matter who is elected, something's going to happen." Connie said calmly.

"I know."

"I'm sorry, Alfred."

"I am too."

"If Lincoln wins the elections..." She trailed off. "At least the shouting in my head will stop."

"If Lincoln wins, the southern side of you will take over, right?" Alfred asked, solemnly.

"Yeah."

They sat in a tense silence. Alfred and Connie had both been suffering from bi-polar mood swings for quite a while now. It annoyed the crap out of both of them. One minute, they were arguing. The next, they were agreeing. Then the next, they were arguing the opposite points of which they had initially fought for. It had driven their last boss into madness.

"Um, Alfred." She sighed. "I just wanted to say, that no matter what happens, you will always be my brother. No matter which side of my brain takes over, no matter what I say, I love you, bro."

A sad smile grew on his face. "You too, short stack." He ruffled her hair. She scowled, fixing it.

"At least we can stop being so damn bi-polar." She sighed, sulking.

"True."

They were interrupted by a loud knocking on the door. Connie stood up, the fifteen year old extending her arm to pull her brother from the couch.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Alfred inhaled, and moved to open the door and let the messenger deliver the news.

* * *

Alfred miserably sat in his seat beside Lincoln. His president gave him a sympathetic look before turning his attention back to the telegraph.

"You should get some sleep, Alfred."

"It's a bit hard to when my little sister just ripped away from me." He winced, touching his stomach, where a long scar was now evident.

"According to you, it isn't her fault."

"It isn't. It doesn't lessen the pain." Alfred ran a hand through his hair. "I wouldn't blame her anyways. Without the slaves, her population would skyrocket and her economy would plummet."

"Poor girl. She is much too young to have to deal with this." Lincoln nodded.

"You would have liked her, Abe." His face was grim. "I don't want to do this." He said, referring to the idea his boss had pitched.

"We don't have much of a choice. Our capital cannot be placed right in the middle of another country." Lincoln shook his head. "We have to place the state of Maryland under martial law."

* * *

"Please, France, England. I need your support," Connie was not above begging at this point. She was desperate.

"I'm sorry, _mon cherie_. Ever since _Amerique_ announced the war was about slavery..." France shook his head. "It would go against our own laws, and morals."

"Translation, no." England deadpanned. "The only way France would join is if I do. He's still weak from the Crimean War." His eyes flickered to his fellow European nation, with a shadow of concern.

They left shortly after, leaving Richelle to slam her back against the wall and slide to the floor. Her greatest fear about this war was the dissolution of the south. _I **am** the Confederate States of America now. If the confederacy dissolved, will I as well?_ She asked herself, miserable and terrified.

She didn't blame them, she could see where they were coming from. Everyone had been a little more than shocked at France's poor performance during the war, even Britain.

Connie angrily punched the ground. If America won... She realized with horror, her economy could plummet, which meant hell knows how long of sickness. He might not even let her back into the union, upon realization. Cotton was pretty much the only thing the south had to offer in trade (and boy did Europe really like their cotton). If the economy went down... She shivered.

Everyone knew what happened to nations who couldn't financially support themselves. Richelle scowled, remembering the moment when she realized no European nation was about to recognize her, or intervene. She had been so close to British intervention, if it hadn't been for Antietam.

Even trying to outlast Lincoln had proven to be a failure, after he had been re-elected. Politically, she would be unable to gain independence. The only way they would win at this point would be lasting long enough to convince America that the cost of winning was too high. And that was what scared her. She knew how far her brother was willing to go to get what he wanted.

Connie looked up at a full length mirror and took in her appearance. To any other person, she looked like any other average fifteen or so year old teenage girl. If it weren't for the tired and determined look in her eyes, the grey Confederate army uniform, and the sword hanging at her hip, she looked almost **normal**. Something every country at one point or another longed to be. For once, Connie realized that to most countries, she was a baby. Even to her brother, who was at least twice her age at this point, she was a mere infant. And looking in that mirror reminded her that she was no different than a child begging a parent for a car; it was pointless and was set for failure.

She reached out and touched the cool mirror surface. She might be well over a hundred years old, but in reality, she was nothing more than the child she saw in the reflection. A child thrust into an adult world of bloodshed and world.

* * *

**December 1864**

She still couldn't believe she was forced into this.

There was a world meeting. Usually, during war time, world meetings were called off. The exception being civil wars, unless the situation was truly dire. Which is why neither of them had been to a meeting since the start of the war. But now, as there were no current major battles because of the holidays, both Alfred and Connie were stuck in the same room.

Needless to say, she really didn't want to be here. She had a splitting headache ever since Lincoln was re-elected.

And even worse, why did it have to be held in Alfred's country? She had wanted to groan and scream and throw a fit when she found out that the mandatory meeting was being held in enemy territory. Just her goddamn luck, she thought. She couldn't feel at ease, and jumped whenever someone tapped her shoulder. Some called it paranoia, she called it being cautious.

The air in the room was tense. No one wanted to get in between the two growing Nations. Prussia, as usual, started the meeting, with the occasional nervous glance in Alfred and Connie, who were sitting on opposite sides of the table and currently having a staring contest. It appears both had long since forgotten the sentimental moment they had shared just before the announcement of Lincoln's inauguration.

During the middle of Prussia's speech, England interrupted him.

"Constantina, Alfred, put you guns away! I know you're pointing those at each other from under the table." England chided, glaring at the two. Both twins grumbled, drawing their guns from underneath and slamming them onto the table surface, causing bewildered looks from the some nations and a few disapproving glares from other, muttering "Damn Americans and their guns." Some (Switzerland and Russia) smirked and nodded in approval at their weapons.

"And Constantina, don't even think about putting that in your brother's drink!" France snapped, causing a disappointed look to appear on her face.

"A-Alfred, p-please give me the knife, I know it's in your b-back pocket." Canada said softly, and for once, everyone heard him.

The rest of the meeting was spent watching America and Richelle nervously and fearfully.

Finally, England called a break. The two were the first to leave the room.

"Ve~! I thought that would never end!" England heard Italy breathe with relief.

"We have another three days of meetings." England growled. "Those two will have to learn to get along for the time being or else-" he was cut off by loud shouting, screaming, and several gun shots.

England whimpered, hitting his head repeatedly on the table. "Why is it always my colonies?" He half wanted to sob. Spain just smirked at him, suddenly glad that all of his colonies were well behaved... most of the time.

After finally tracking them down and stopping them from attempting to shoot/stab/pummel/etc. each other, England called the meeting back.

They were just staring at each other, much to the horror and slight terror of the rest of the countries. Mostly because the last meeting they had, the two countries had been so close (Literally; Connie had been sitting on her brother's lap). Then, Connie smirked, and pushed her newly acquired glasses up the bridge of her nose mockingly.

Alfred bristled, eyes flashing dangerously. He just wanted his damn Texas back! China's speech was cut off by the sound of Alfred pushing his chair back, followed by Connie.

In a split second, both had drawn their spare gun and were aiming them straight at each other's heads. The room froze, unsure and terrified at what to do.

"America, Richelle. Put. The guns. Down." England ground out, having risen beforehand. He, who, along with Canada, had been the only one willing to sit next to Alfred, placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't move, blue eyes hard and focusing on Richelle. Each gun was about an inch away from their forehead, but both just stared down the barrel of the gun.

Canada stood and and yelled (or his definition of yelling), "Connie, p-please stop and just apologize."

France and Prussia were on the other side of the table and on either sides of Connie. France frowned. "_Mathieu_, why should she? Young Amerique drew the weapon first!"

England's eyes narrowed. "Now wait just a bloody moment, frog!" He snapped, annoyed. "I was watching them, and Richelle provoked him!"

"Yeah, I was too." Gilbert said, frowning. "And all she did was push up her glasses- looks very nice on you, by the way, birdie- and America overreacted."

"They were his!" Canada persisted quietly, though no one heard him.

"Those glasses are Alfred's anyways!" England snapped.

"I-I just said that." Canada whispered, disheartened.

"I won it, fair and square." Richelle said coldly, but it was more aimed towards Alfred than anyone else.

"Give me back Texas!" Alfred glowered. "I helped you win them in the first place, while you were lying in bed groaning about a stomachache!"

Connie seethed. "It's not my fault the damage done at the Alamo caused a fucking stab wound in my stomach!"

"Language!"

"There are little ears in the room!" Many protested.

Neither of them listened.

"And it doesn't change the fact that Texas is now the property of the Confederate States of America." Connie continued, sneering. Her last words caused the temperature of the room to drop.

"Just like those slaves are your property, then." Alfred spat. "It's unlawful."

The room seemed to hold their breaths.

"Hypocritical." She said, mockingly. Her grip tightened on the gun, finger so tempted to pull the trigger. "Remember last January? What are they calling it now, huh? The Trail of Tears. How many died, Alfred? If I recall, about 200 on the way to those 'reserves'."

"I didn't have any power on that." Alfred glared.

"Sure." She said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"Piedmont." Alfred suddenly sang, lips twisting into a smirk as he saw the dangerous look flash across her face. That had hurt rather badly, with nearly a thousand soldiers captured.

"The crater."

"Mobile Bay."

Back and forth this continued, with the other nations watching like it was an intense tennis match.

Surprisingly, it was Italy who finally snapped. "Stop!" He exclaimed, looking ready to cry. "You guys are siblings, you shouldn't be doing this." He looked horrified. "I couldn't imagine if _mi fratello_ and I were to fight." Italy wrapped his big brother in a tight hug, causing him to yelp and swear violently in Italian.

"Let go of me, bastard!"

The room fell into chaos, each nation shouting and arguing with each other. Using this as a distraction, Denmark and Prussia each grabbed one of the siblings and threw away their guns before dragging hem from the room into the hall.

"PRUSSIA PUT ME DOWN." Richelle shrieked as he easily threw her over his back, her legs kicking and trying to break free. He just smiled and used his right hand to pin her hands behind her back. Too easy.

Denmark, on the other hand, was more than struggling with America. Finally, he managed to sweep his feet underneath him and pin the blonde haired teen on the ground.

"Finally." Prussia breathed, putting Richelle down, but still restraining her arms.

"Now, I know you guys are at war, but seriously, this is a world meeting. We can't have you guys threatening each other. Do whatever you want outside the building, but for the next few days, keep your cool, alright?" Denmark said, surprisingly serious.

"He is right," Prussia added, nodding. "I, personally, would like to avoid getting caught in a World War." **(A/N: Oh the irony...)**

Grudgingly, the two agreed and walked back to the meeting room after Denmark and Prussia double checked to make sure they weren't carrying anymore weapons. They watched them from behind as they walked side by side, childishly elbowing and kicking each other on the way in.

"We need to fix this." Gilbert sighed.

"Yeah. The Awesome Quartet shan't be split merely because of Connie's teenage rebellion!" Matthias cheered.

Prussia frowned. "Sorry what now?"

"Well, it's obvious Richelle is just going through a teenage rebellion phase." Denmark said in a 'duh' sort of voice.

"It's not just that." Prussia protested in her defense

A wolfish grin appeared on his friend's face. "And you would know? She and you were talking, lover boy?" He taunted

Gilbert's face flushed slightly. Denmark had been the only one he had told about his affections towards the younger girl, but using that against him was uncool.

"Dude! Keep your voice down!" He hissed.

Matthias' grin widened. "You haven't told anyone else?"

Prussia glared. "No. Who else would I tell?"

"I don't know, maybe the rest of the Bad Touch Trio?"

"Yeah right." He muttered. "Both Antonio and Francis would murder me. They think of her as their little sister."

"True. I probably will too, if you hurt her." Denmark beamed, gazing at his axe lovingly. Prussia took a step back, nervous.

"Ah. Right..." He muttered. "Anyways, its not just teenage rebellion. America had complete control of the country. When he split the north and south originally, he didn't think it would work. He didn't realize that it did, and Connie was born. But America realized she was only a child, and couldn't bear the weight of the south, especially in the war. So he held absolute power. She expected him to let go of the reigns completely when she grew up, but it didn't happen. She didn't have much say in anything. The War of 1812 was Alfred's idea, according to Connie."

"That hadn't been the brightest of ideas." Denmark noted.

"It hadn't. Richelle still holds it over his head. Anyways, after a series of grievances and unfortunate events, the last straw for her was suggesting the prohibition of slaves. It's not that she doesn't believe they are human, but she knows her economy may fail without them." Prussia sighed. "That might be my fault. We were talking once, and I was telling her how most of the nations didn't believe that their Democracy Experiment would work, and that there was a betting pool going on about the most likely way they'd fade."

"Heh, I remember that." Denmark flashed his signature grin. "Let's see, some said civil war, some said the government would be corrupted, some said England would come back to take over, ha! But wasn't the most betting about the economy...?" Matthias 'oh'ed and a metaphorical light bulb turned on above his head.

"Yeah." Prussia rolled his eyes. "Alfred better be careful. Kid or not, Richelle is a force to be reckoned with."

"You can't actually believe she is going to win?" Denmark asked, incredulous.

"Nope." Prussia shook his head. "But she'll definitely put up a fight. That, at the very least, will make her brother listen."

"She's smarter than others give her credit for." Denmark noted.

"But then again..." Prussia raised and eyebrow. "So is Alfred."

So that's how the rest of the meetings went. Alfred and Connie glaring at each other while the others tried to run away whenever guns were involved. They all saw what happened to most of the soldiers who were shot by those muskets but didn't die. And no one was in the mood to lose a limb.

On Christmas day, the only ones not celebrating were Alfred and Richelle.


	7. The Civil War Part 2 (Final)

**April 9, 1865**

Richelle sighed as she lifted up the pen. She looked at Union General Grant, with a hint of respect, before bending slightly and signing her name on the document. She limped slightly as she walked out of the room, the rest watching her leave Appomattox Court House. Alfred watched her leave, eyes heavy and sad. He'd talk to her later. For now, he'd had enough bloodshed.

They hadn't seen each other since that meeting in December. When she first entered the court house, Alfred couldn't (and didn't want to) believe that his little girl, who he remembered bouncing on his leg and having tickle fights with, now seemed to be a battle-hardened sixteen year old young lady.

_Was this how Arthur felt, when I left?_ Alfred wondered, a tad guilty.

_"One of these days, that innocent little kid will break your heart_." Arthur's words echoed in his mind.

_Goddammit, Arthur. I am not letting you say '_I told you so_'. You're insufferable enough as it is._ Alfred thought, scowling with annoyance.

The room was silent as they watched Richelle and Ex-Confederate General Lee outside, shaking hands grimly.

If she was being honest, she was rather content with the terms. If anything, they were more than she had expected. No one was being arrested or imprisoned, they were supplying them with food rations, and allowed the men transportation back. It was more than she could have hoped for.

During the formal surrender ceremony a few days later, Richelle announced the disbandment of the Northern Virginia Army. She touched her stomach, where a scar rested where West Virginia tore away years previously. Richelle cast one last look at her brother before she walked off the podium. Later, admist the chaos of celebration and mourning, he found her sitting under a tree. Alfred sat next to her, without one word.

Much to his surprise, the first thing she did was give her the glasses. He blinked, and carefully took Texas from her. Placing them on his nose, he looked at her. Richelle didn't say anything else, or look him in the eye. But when he reached for her hand, she didn't try to retract it.

"I'm going to try to get everything up and running as soon as possible." America promised.

"I don't doubt it." She murmured, closing her eyes. She was just tired of it all.

"And..." He hesitated, "I'll loosen my grip on the south slightly."

Had she been drinking something, Alfred knew she probably would have spit it out. Her blue eyes met his, wide as saucers. "W-what?" Her jaw fell open. Of all things to say, she hadn't expected that. Truthfully, not much surprised her these days. But this did.

"You've proven yourself able to fairly efficiently run the south by yourself." He fondly ruffled her hair. "After everything is back to normal, we'll talk about Texas and the rest of the south."

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't for the young brunette to wrap her brother in a tight hug, for the first time in over four years. Caught off guard, he didn't react for a second, before finally moving his arms to tightly hug her back. Even if this young woman appeared to about be his age now, he was still a head taller than she. His chin rested on the top of her head, and he sighed.

"It's not going to be easy. Your economy will go down. You'll be feeling like shit for a while." he added.

"My own fault. Cutting off trade with England was, in hindsight, not the best decision." She admitted, sighing.

"But I'll be damned if you don't 100% recover." His eyes were bright.

Richelle scoffed. "My hero." She said mockingly.

He puffed up a bit. "I AM the hero!" He replied proudly.

Richelle snorted, nodding her head with sarcasm that Alfred didn't quite catch. "Of course you are."

If she had realized those simple, six words would have been the start to Alfred's hero complex, she would have shot him right then and there.

"Of course," she added, glaring at him slightly, "this doesn't mean I like you."

"Me neither, little sister, me neither..."

"Don't call me that." She shoved him slightly, done with stroking his ego.

"I can call you whatever I want, sis!" He grinned condescendingly, mockingly looking down at her. Connie sneered and was half tempted to draw her revolver.

Way to ruin the moment, Alfred.

* * *

In an attempt to make things less awkward between them, Alfred invited (forced) Connie to a play with his president and first lady. _Their_, she corrected herself mentally. _Not just his anymore._

When she first met the man, he had just pleasantly shook her hand and said, "I look forward to working with you." And although she would never admit it to Alfred, she later saw why they won with Lincoln as president.

"Ole' Abe and Mary got seats up there," Alfred said, breaking the awkward silence between he and his sister. She merely nodded and sat down, awkwardly shifting so the revolver she had strapped to her leg underneath her dress wasn't showing.

Half way into the play, a shiver ran through her spine. Richelle frowned and leaned closer to Alfred, who turned to look at her with a strange look on his face, as though he knew something was about to happen. Just as he opened his mouth, and single gun shot fired. Richelle cried out as a searing migraine struck her. Alfred groaned, clutching his head as well.

"A-Alfred!" She gasped, "Lincoln!"

"THE PRESIDENT'S BEEN SHOT!" Screams of terror filled the air. In a blur, everyone was running around, screaming or trying to escape and gather their friends and family.

By the time the pain subsided, the theater was empty. Richelle picked herself up off the ground and looked around, disoriented and confused. Even Alfred had left, possibly in a mad dash to kill whoever did it, or to go see if anything else had occurred, despite the blinding headache.

She dazedly stumbled out of the theater, still rubbing her temples at the headache. Richelle looked at a group of women, some crying and comforting each other.

"-southern trash." One said, scoffing scornfully, "Sore losers, if I do say so myself. They're all the same damn Confederate garbage."

A rush of anger ran through her, but before she could charge over there and shout, a hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder. Alfred gave her a disapproving look. "No killing anyone."

She mumbled a few choice words about how people were assholes and how Alfred was "certain things" before looking at him grimly. "How bad is it?"

"A single bullet to the back of the head. The guy must've been planning this." He looked bitter. After all, Alfred had made it his job to personally know all of his bosses

A worried look appeared on her face. "If he's been planning this, is it possible someone else has been attacked?"

"Seward was also attacked, but he may survive."

"Vice president?"

"He's fine. Confused, concerned, a tad bit furious, and shocked when I told him he's now president."

"Who did it?" She asked.

Alfred's face darkened. "Been asking around, most people recognized him as John Wilkes Booth."

Richelle's eyes widened. "The actor?"

"And a confederate sympathizer." He said, voice cold. Although he didn't say it, Richelle couldn't help but feel that a part of him blamed her for the attack.

"Where did he go?"

"South, towards Maryland." Alfred's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"No reason." She muttered, turning on her heels and heading towards their house. Alfred ran after her in an attempt to catch up, but eventually lost her in the crowd. By the time he got home, she had disappeared.

Alfred sighed and returned to the White House, where the ex-vice president was trying to send out warning while at the same time limit the chaos and mass panic.

"Richelle disappeared." He panted to him.

"Wonderful." The president muttered. Johnson looked at Alfred cautiously, "As much as I hate to be the one to suggest it, is it possible Richelle is responsible...?"

Alfred's eyes flashed. "Of course not!" He shouted, furious. "Richelle is the personification of the south, but she wouldn't do that. She knows when to quit."

"My apologies, Alfred." Johnson shook his head. "But as of now, we don't have Booth, and so we therefore don't have any evidence. But you said Richelle just asked you a bunch of questions then just ran off by herself?"

"Well, yes but-" Alfred cut himself off, and slowly realized how suspicious it did seem. "She can't, anyways. Lincoln is her president, she can't just assassinate her boss-"

Johnson looked at him, sighing. "While he may have technically been her boss since the Confederacy lost, it may not have been entirely. After all, none of her states have rejoined the union yet. And you said that it wasn't her who killed Abe, but she could have enlisted help from conspirators."

Alfred stood, frozen and horrified. It was quite plausible. She had been distant and cold since she began living with him. Richelle was well-known for holding grudges, as well. Heart heavy, he couldn't help but agree.

"I'm sorry, Alfred. But we can't take any chances right now." Johnson sighed. "I'm issuing a state-wide search for her, along with Booth and the others. You said she was probably headed for Maryland?"

"That's where I told her Booth went."

"Then we'll send messengers now. By horse, they'll be faster and should reach Maryland before she does."

"Unless she has a horse."

"We better hope not. If that's the case, then I can only imagine the pandemonium that will spread."

* * *

She didn't, in fact, have her horse. But in hindsight, she probably should have brought one. Upon entering a town on the fifth day of her trip, she found that the president had issued a search for her. Which was fine, since she didn't imagine Booth would be in towns anyway. Nor would anyone realize it was her after she had taken her old Union uniform with her.

Walking along a small pond, she looked at her reflection and brushed her hair out of her face. "Never thought I'd see myself wearing this again." She muttered, adjusting her collars of the uniform uncomfortably.

On the twelfth day of her search, she finally managed to track down Booth on his farm, along with another conspirator. She pointed her revolver at them, eyes narrowed.

Both men stared at her with shock. "Who are you?!" Booths demanded, while his companion fearfully raised his arms in surrender.

"People like you are the ones who will give the southerners a bad name. We need to rejoin the union, otherwise we will collapse!" She said coldly, glaring at the pair. "And your damn stunt may hinder that process. You've just assassinated the president. Not just the president, but a brilliant man. Because of that, you're both under arrest."

She took a step forward, training her gun on the other man and preparing to tie him up. In a split second, Booths turned to run. He got five steps in before a single gunshot rang in the air, breaking the silence of the rural Maryland farm and causing a group of crows to squawk and fly off.

When Alfred finally found her, she looked up from filing her nails. "It's about damn time." She said mockingly, a southern drawl escaping her usually perfect northern accent.

Alfred sighed. "You couldn't have waited?"

"You're welcome." She shoved the rope that led to the man's wrists into Alfred's hands and stalked off.

Smirking despite himself, he shouted towards her departing figure, "Nice uniform!" only to receive a middle finger in return. Alfred chuckled. Some things never change.


	8. Innocent Part 1

**Summary: In which Alfred learns the hard way that his 'innocent little sister' isn't as innocent as he thought.**

**Present Day**

"Hey Iggy, how's it hanging?" Alfred picked up his cell phone.

"_English, Alfred. I thought I taught you at least that one thing correctly_."

"Ha, right. Anyways, why'd you call? You never call without reason."

"_Have you seen your sister lately_?"

"No, why?"

"_I'm worried for her_."

Alfred's eyebrows shot up. "Uh, England, I don't know how to tell you this, but Richelle is a big girl now. I'm sure she can handle herself."

"_That girl's ego has been bigger than yours since '69._"

"Well, she has a right to be." He defended, "First country on the moon, not to mention beat Russia? You should have seen her, she was so excited. So was I, mind you, but Connie was- excuse the pun- _over the moon_ about Apollo 11 launching from the south."

"_Yes, but that is beside the point_." England scowled, pinching the bridge of his nose despite the fact that Alfred couldn't see him. "_But haven't you noticed the looks she's been getting from the other nations?"_

Alfred frowned. After the minor economic crisis they had and the terrorist attacks, no one could deny the fact that, once again, Alfred and Connie were once again growing. They both thought their last growth spurt ended after the Cold War, when they looked about sixteen or seventeen and could pass off as twins. Now, while they could still pass as twins, they both were completely out of that awkward teenage stage and appeared to be about nineteen or twenty.

"Well, she **IS** my sister, so I'd say she's pretty good looking." He grinned.

"_Well, I hope you've realized that most countries are pretty bloody perverted, not to mention can easily hold a grudge_."

"Really?" Alfred scoffed. "Name one!"

"_France. He's still sour about the French Revolution._"

"He's like her brother!" He waved it aside. "Besides, Francey-pants can't possibly **still** be upset at that!"

"_Alfred, he was **beheaded** by his own people._"

"Eh, well, his fault for creating the guillotine."

"_Prussia. He's probably still upset at Richelle for the whole Berlin Wall ordeal! That deciding vote was hers_." He pointed out.

"Gilbert is way too in love with her to hold a grudge, especially when we dropped supplies constantly." He puffed up with pride at the memory.

"_Spain. The Spanish-American War_."

"Ew, dude, that's like incest. Not to mention I thought he was gay... But they're cool now, right? He can't still be upset over that little skirmish." America frowned as he remembered the Spanish-American War and the grey hair they gave his sister.

The loss of Spain's colonies made him mopey and depressed for a year, until the next world meeting when he saw Richelle looking exhausted and defeated. She had fallen asleep mid-meeting, and threatened anyone who dared try to wake her up with a handgun in their face. Although she had had her face still buried in her arms, no one doubted her aim. Spain just smirked and laughed while mockingly asking, "How are the colonies doing, mi amiga?" She didn't even bother to muster up a response or raise her head from her arms, instead electing to give him the middle finger, eliciting laughter from the Spanish-speaking nation.

Apparently, dealing with children and having to interact with actual other people was not Connie's fortè.

"_Alfred, that 'little skirmish' had him in a deep depression for an entire year. He came to me- ME, the same guy who he's still pissy at for the whole Armada ordeal- __nearly every night sobbing and under the influence about those 'huge jerks'. No amount of tomatoes, turtles, and Romano could cheer him up!_"

"Until that world meeting. He seemed pretty smug then." Alfred snorted.

"_Russia_." England said flatly, not even bothering to give an explanation.

There was a silence.

"..."

When he didn't get a reply, England hesitantly and cautiously asked, "_Alfred_?"

"One second, I'm getting my spare gun and then taking my private jet to Virginia, then Moscow." He growled, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder. There was a sigh on the other end.

"_You and your sister have more enemies than friends!_"

"Not true!" He whined.

"_Maybe not enemies, but definitely Nations you've pissed off on more than one occasion._"

"It's a gift. Plus, it's not my fault! Despite what Richelle says about wanting to remain an isolationist, she has one nasty temper. Remember Japan?"

A shiver ran through England's spine. America and Richelle had been picking themselves back up from the Great Depression when Japan decided to bomb Pearl Harbor. He remembered how pissed off Richelle had been. He had never been more terrified in his life.

When he didn't get a reply, Alfred smirked. "See? I mellowed out a bit after the Civil War. Ya' know, listened to old Georgie's advice and stay away from Europe. I learned my lesson from 1812."

"_Richelle can be persuasive when she's angry_." He agreed.

"That's to say the least." Alfred got into the car, putting England on speaker as he started up the engine. "Don't blame her though. I can tell she really wanted to listen to George, but if that had been New York or Chicago or something, I probably would have reacted the same way. I mean, I was angry enough. But I didn't get a shattered knee cap."

"_Yes, but she didn't have to drop two atomic bombs on the poor lad_."

"Hey, I didn't do much to stop her. That attack left her with internal bleeding too. But, the Cold War was all her idea."

England tried not to roll his eyes, even though he knew America couldn't see him. The Cold War had been agonizing for the rest of the nations. Every year was the same. Russia and Richelle would glare at each other while trying their hardest not to shoot, with America obliviously continuing on about some stupid thing.

It had even eventually got to the point when England had to agree with France that they should just get locked into a hotel room with no weapons just to resolve the high sexual tension.

"Look, I gotta go, Iggy. I've gotta drive. Call you when I land."

"_Fine. Just... Don't do anything rash, okay? Keep in mind that Richelle knows what she is doing (most of the time). Seriously, no one wants another Cold War._"

"You think I want one? For me, that was just one damn long migraine. Connie wouldn't stop complaining about Russia." Alfred shook his head. "Bye."

"_Goodbye._" Alfred turned his phone off.

* * *

Richelle had no idea what drove her to that point. It began with a bored day. When she was bored, she tended to travel. This time, her travels led her to Lithuania.

'_Might as well visit_.' She thought. '_Haven't seen Toris in a little while._' She thought, hailing a taxi like a New Yorker (earning several odd looks) and giving the driver directions (in Lithuanian) to Toris' house.

After knocking on the door several times to no avail, she frowned. Richelle looked at the driveway, where Toris' car was parked as usual.

'_Maybe he went on a walk or something_.' She shrugged, not thinking much of it. '_Might as well wait here for him to get back_.' Richelle sat down on his porch.

"Ah, it's America Junior!" A familiar voice said. She froze in place. Oh no...

Richelle groaned as she saw Russia walk up the drive way with that trademark childish smile of his. "I did not expect you here at Lithuania's house."

"What do you want, commie?" She sighed.

"I wanted to see my good friend Lithuania." He smirked.

"Right." She muttered, "What did you want with Toris?"

"Just wanted to talk to him, da?" Russia shrugged, though that look on his face told a different story.

Her anger flared up, and she sprung up, pushing him against the wall. "Listen here, commie bastard," she snarled, "leave my friend alone! He isn't a part of your damn Soviet Union anymore, get it? So fuck off."

Russia just smiled, and turned her, so his muscular body now pinned her against the wall. He leaned in close with a smirk. His breath was hot next to her ear, causing her to barely conceal a shiver. "The cold war is over, Capitalist pig." He sneered. "I can take that as an act of war."

"But you haven't the balls to." She smirked. "You know what would happen. Even if you somehow manage to annex the Baltics, you couldn't win another war with us. So go ahead, I'd like to see you try. Maybe we'll have another space race? This time to Mars?" At the mention of the race to the moon, his grip on her neck tightened.

"You are not in the best place to be making threats right now, comrade." He said coldly. She choked slightly, but managed to keep that usual annoying grin on her face.

His eyes narrowed and he was suddenly distracted by the sudden strand of hair that stuck up, apparently defying gravity. Despite her attempts to gel it down, the stubborn strand managed to fall out of place.

A smirk suddenly grew on his face as he recalled something Lithuania had told him when he got the Baltic nation drunk on Vodka. Seeing the smirk, she narrowed her eyes.

"What are you looking at, bastard?" She scowled.

"I wonder..." He mused. "What does this do?" Using this thumb and index finger he touched her strand of hair.

The effects were instantaneous. Her face paled, then blossomed into an interesting shade of pink. Richelle gasped, knees wobbling. "What are you-" she was cut off when Russia suddenly moved his finger, gently and only slightly rubbing it.

"Interesting." He smirked.

"R-Russia!" She gasped, eyes screwing shut as a wave of warmth ran down her body. Richelle weakly tried pushing against him. "D-don't touch that!"

"What is it?"

"It's-it's New Orleans!" She hissed, whimpering slightly as Russia loosened the pressure on her neck and rubbed Orleans again. This time, she couldn't help but let out a breathy moan. He grinned, using his fingers to stroke the hair strand, twirling it around his index finger.

A tear fell out of her eye and she gasped again, unable to breathe despite Russia no longer holding her by the neck. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

"You look adorable with your face all twisted up and bright red like that." He informed her cheerfully.

"F-fuck off R-Russia." She whimpered as he gave a not-so-gentle yank. She had lost all control of her legs, and was only being supported by Russia.

Throughout this ordeal, it hadn't occurred to Russia to take away her gun until it was too late. He heard a soft click of the safety being turned off and felt something poking him in the side.

Her eyes focused on his, and she gasped out, "Let go of Orleans, you fucking commie or so help me God I will shoot you."

Russia just smirked, not at all intimidated. Nevertheless he released her hair and stepped back. She groaned and collapsed.

"J-Jesus fucking Christ." She whimpered, angrily wiping her tears away. By the time she looked up, Russia was gone, and Lithuania was walking up the street. When he caught sight of her, he ran over, still carrying his groceries.

"Miss Richelle! What's wrong?"

"It's either just Connie or Richelle, I've told you this before." She muttered, before taking his outstretched hand to stand up. "I'll tell you when we get inside." Her legs wobbled slightly as she managed to walk up the porch steps and enter Lithuania's house.

"So what happened?" He asked nervously as they sat down in his kitchen, him making coffee. She gratefully took the mug with shaking hands.

"He touched New Orleans." She grumbled, taking a sip of her coffee. Lithuania nearly dropped the coffee pot and he squeaked indignantly.

"What? Do you want me to get Mr. America?" He demanded. She just shook her head with slight amusement, it was always funny when Toris got in his 'angry' mood like this. Or as close to angry as he could get.

"No Toris, it's fine." A smirk grew on her lips as she turned her blue eyes to him. "But you know what you can do, Liet?" Richelle asked in an innocent voice. Lithuania swallowed slightly, blushing.

* * *

The next morning, she awoke to the sound of her cell phone ringing. Richelle grumbled and snuggled closer to Lithuania, who was groaning, "Turn it off."

"Fine, fine." She got out of bed to find her jeans, where her phone was. Lithuania made the mistake of opening his eyes, and a blush overcame his entire face upon seeing Richelle bend down to grab the ringing phone.

"Hello?"

"_Richelle! Where are you_?" Alfred's worried voice shouted so loudly, she had to move the phone from her ear.

"Ow. What does it matter, bastard?"

Ignoring the insult once again, he asked, "_Because you haven't been home in forever_."

"You idiot," she snapped, "I don't even live with you anymore."

"_What's mine is yours, and vice versa, little sister_." His obnoxious laugh rang out. "_Seriously, I checked your Virginia house and went all the way to Russia to see if that commie had done something, but he just did his weird laugh thingie and walked away._"

"I'm-I'm not at Russia's." She glanced at Lithuania, who was currently hiding his embarrassed face into the pillow. "Look, I'n fine. Just- wait a second, you went into my house!?"

"_Yeah_." He said in a duh voice. "_By the way, dude, about those things in your closet-_"

"Goddammit America!" She hissed. "When I get back, I'm gonna- *Insert Vulgar and Graphic Descriptions Here*" which caused a rather loud whimper from Lithuania.

"_Wait, what was that?_" Alfred sounded confused.

She paled. "What was what?"

"_I could have sworn I heard the sound of a kicked puppy._"

Lithuania frowned slightly at the description._ He didn't sound like a kicked puppy..._

"I have no idea what you're talking about_._" Richelle lied smoothly, thumping Lithuania on the back of his head, causing him to let out a surprised yelp.

"_Yeah, there it is again!_" Alfred exclaimed. Lithuania's bedroom door suddenly opened to reveal Estonia and Latvia.

"Fuck!" Richelle shouted, diving into the covers with her phone still clutched in hand.

"Gah!" Estonia shut his eyes and used his left hand to cover Latvia's eyes and his right hand to shut the door.

"Sorry!" They heard Latvia exclaim.

There was a silence, before they heard a soft thump and a cry of, "Ow! I'm sorry!"

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO JUST BARGE IN THERE, LATVIA!"

Poor Lithuania just buried his face deeper into the pillow, dying of embarrassment.

"_Richelle..._" Alfred's voice was deathly quiet.

"Yes, Alfred?" She tried to sound innocent.

"_Are you at Lithuania's house...?_"

"Perhaps."

"_And did you and him...?_"

"Maybe..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

There was a soft click of a gun's safety being clicked off. Then, the phone went dead.

"He's still in Russia. You have an hour at best before he comes to kill you." Richelle said calmly.

A horrified look passed over Lithuania's face as he jumped out of bed and quickly put on a new set of clothes and ran out the door.

"Estonia! Latvia! Help me!" Richelle heard him wail.

She smiled and looked around for her shirt, frowning when she couldn't find it. She probably left it in the kitchen... Shrugging, she picked up Lithuania's white button-up shirt and threw on a pair of shorts before heading outside.


	9. Innocent Part 2 (Final)

Forty-five minutes later, Lithuania had run off and Richelle was casually sipping her coffee while reading the Lithuanian newspaper as Estonia made toast and Latvia sat across from her.

The door burst open and Alfred looked around, furious. "Where is he?" He demanded.

Richelle just shrugged, "I don't know. And you shouldn't be upset with him; it was Russia that touched New Orleans."

A collective gasp went through the room. Estonia dropped his frying pan and poor Latvia began choking on his milk.

"HE DID WHAT NOW?" Alfred screamed, furious. "WHEN I FIND THAT DAMN SON OF A BITCH-"

"Relax, Alfred." She rolled her eyes. "You can get him during the meeting later. It's at my place." Richelle said, referring to the building in Richmond.

* * *

As soon as the poor Russia walked through those double doors, everyone knew he was doomed. Alfred sprung into action, grabbing Ivan by his scarf and throwing him against the wall. Russia giggled.

"Hello, comrade."

"Look here you fucking commie, I can usually give less of a shit as to what you do. You and my sister have plenty of tension that we can all agree needs to be released-"

"*Cough*SexualTension*Cough*" France cleared his throat, looking innocently at America as he turned to glare.

"-but you. Don't. Touch. New. Orleans. Under. Any. Circumstances." He snarled. The terrifying threats kept flying out of his mouth at the former Soviet Union. The rest of the Nations looked at Richelle, who had kicked her boots onto the table and was filing her nails.

"Aren't you going to do anything?" England asked.

She looked up, and shrugged. "Damn commie deserved it." She said.

He sighed. "Sometimes you are just TOO similar to Alfred."

"Hey, it was Lithuania who told me about New Orleans anyways." Russia smirked. A silence fell over the room as several pairs of eyes landed on a pale and horrified looking Baltic state. Estonia and Latvia had stepped away from their 'brother', knowing he was probably a goner.

In a split second, Alfred had pinned Toris to the table, twisting his arm against his back and had a gun poised at his temple. This time, Richelle stood up. "Alfred..." She said with a warning tone.

"You told Russia, of all damn people?"

Lithuania looked terrified. "I-I didn't! Why- when-" he stammered. He looked across the table at Poland for help, but he just shook his head, too scared to do anything.

It took half an hour, five countries, twenty death threats from Richelle, and a promise of McDonalds to finally pry Alfred off of the poor Baltic. "Why are you defending him, Connie!?" He complained. "He took your innocence!"

A slightly awkward silence fell upon the room. Richelle awkwardly looked away, not meeting her brother's eyes. A confused look passed over his face, before he looked around the room and saw a few uncomfortable and/or smug looks on certain faces.

"You- you- he-" he squeaked.

Richelle awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck. "Ah, actually, I was HIS first."

"Wait, so he hadn't-"

"No."

"And you already-"

"Yeah."

"So you-"

"Yep."

"But that wasn't-"

"Not the first time."

"So then you guys are-"

"Yeah." Her smile was wide, showing everyone that the young girl clearly didn't know how to read the atmosphere.

Lithuania, who had jumped to his brothers as soon as Alfred let go of him, now had his face buried in Estonia's lap with great embarrassment, with Latvia sympathetically rubbing his back.

That's when Alfred drew his spare gun and looked around the room with narrowed eyes. "So who DID take your virginity?"

"That's none of your business." She snapped.

"I'm your older brother, so it is." Alfred said, coolly. The silent nations winced at his tone of voice. They hadn't heard it used againt Connie since the Civil War. Memories of the world meeting of 1864 were brought back, and the nations collectively shivered.

"You know what, Alfred, you can go fuck yourself." Connie clenched her fists inside her jacket pockets. "This is none of your business. It's not my fault you still are a virgin-"

Alfred sputtered. "I am not-"

"_Angleterre_, I told you that Puritan upbringing would come back to haunt you!"

And, like every other meeting, the nations broke out into petty arguments and fighting.

* * *

"I'm an awful older brother, aren't I?" Alfred suddenly asked, pausing his video game and looking at his brother. Canada frowned and looked up from his book, turning towards his direction.

The North American brothers were currently in Richelle's living room. Richelle herself had gone to hang out with Italy and Romano while her brothers decided to make themselves at home.

"Of course not-"

"Mattie, don't lie. England, Denmark, and Prussia sent me an invitation to their Fail Brother's Club after the Civil War."

_Flashback_

_The year was 1866 and it was the next world meeting. Everyone was anxious, since they heard Richelle was actually alive (they made the mistake of believing she had dissolved along with the Confederacy... and no one wanted a repeat of the meeting of 1865 when they made THAT mistake)._

_They all walked into the meeting room expecting a brooding Richelle and a happy and enthusiastic America. What they got was something a bit unorthodox._

_They were both seated across from each other, checking over their papers patiently and calmly, with emotionless faces. England nearly fainted from shock._

_"North, pass me a water bottle please." She said, not even looking up. Alfred glanced from his notes, and reached over to his side and placed a bottle a few inches from her papers, causing her to nod in thanks._

_Needless to say, the nations were terrified. Most of them stood in the doorway with open mouths and horrified looks._

_Finally, Alfred looked up, and saw them. He raised an eyebrow. "Are you guys going to come in or what?" The nations hastily scrambled into their seats and awkwardly waited for Germany to begin the meeting._

_"Uh..." He stared at them, before blinking a couple times. "Okay, to begin this meeting..."_

_The meeting began to drone on and on, but like last time, no one was truly paying attention. Their eyes were locked onto Richelle and America like an intense tennis match, waiting to see who would break first._

_Finally, America stood up to give his presentation. He sighed heavily, "As you know, Richelle and I recently had a civil war and we are trying to build the south back up to its original glory." His blue eyes flickered to her, watching her mutter something unintelligible under her breath that no one could hear. "So we're going to need international help. England, you mind buying from her states again?"_

_"I don't know, Alfred... My other trades usually have more and for cheaper."_

_Richelle muttered under her breath again, but this time America's eyes narrowed. "Do you have something to say, Constantina?" A chill went through the room at the use of her full name._

_She snapped the pen she was using, causing the nations next to her to scoot away. Ignoring it, she repeated, "He wouldn't have this problem if we made more cotton. And you know how difficult it is to do that nowadays, don't you?" She sneered. The room froze, holding their breaths._

_"Well, Richelle, maybe you should be the one up here, presenting your case instead of sitting your lazy ass there and making me do it."_

_Her eyes narrowed and she stood up, fingers twitching to her gun. "I am not lazy, thank you very much. It's you who insisted to do this, as if I'm a child." She spat._

_Alfred scowled, pushing his glasses up his nose. "You ARE a child, little sister."_

_"And you're any better?" She scoffed. "I'm not a child anymore, so stop treating me like back in the Revolution! I'm not that toddler that ran through the streets and let you braid by hair and tie ribbons in it! I am not a little kid, and I'm DEFINITELY not your sister!"_

_ A resounding slap echoed through the room. The next thing the nations knew, Alfred was shoved backwards and Richelle had stormed out of the room in a blink of an eye. The resounding silence was amazing as Alfred stared at the slamming door._

_He wiped a tear from his eye discreetly, even though everyone saw, and sighed. "As I was saying..."_

_It was the first, and last, time he had ever laid a hand on Richelle._

_During break, England was the first one to confront him. "I told you, America."_

_Alfred, who had been holding his head in his hands and resting them on his elbows, looked up. Most of the nations had left the room, save for a few. "Told me what, Iggy?" He asked tiredly._

_"After Yorktown. I told you she would break your heart." He said. America's fists clenched._

_"_Angleterre_..." France said in a warning tone. England ignored him._

_"I told you that sweet, innocent little girl wearing ribbons and carrying around that bunny everywhere would grow up one day, and bring you down at the same time."_

_"Arthur!" Canada squeaked, but as usual, no one heard him._

_"And now you know how I felt, back in Yorktown, the night before Cornwallis surrendered. When I came to look for you. When you said nearly the exact words that Richelle just said. When you became indelendent."_

_The silence was heavy. They imagined that Alfred would punch his 'older brother'. To their surprise, Alfred wrapped him in a tight hug, tears falling from his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He sobbed. "Is this how you felt? That your little sibling, the one you raised since they were tiny, just turned their back on you?"_

_England sighed as he began rubbing his back comfortingly. France sighed and clapped him on the shoulder._

_"Did she feel regret, Iggy? Did she feel the sadness I did whenever we pointed guns at each other and shouted death threats? Did she ever realize how sad it was that we were fighting?" He sobbed._

_"Did you, during the Revolution?"_

_"Of-of course." Alfred hiccupped._

_"Then odds are, so did Richelle." Arthur sighed, brushing his hair back._

_End Flashback_

"W-well you know how they are..."

"Yeah..." Alfred sighed. There was a short silence before Canada broke it.

"I-I think Richelle still hates me after 1812."

Alfred frowned, "Of course she doesn't."

"I mean, she's never outright said it, but it's pretty obvious."

"Richelle holds grudges. She may never forget things, but she always forgives. Although, she'll never admit that."

Matthew laughed slightly at that.

"But really, Richelle doesn't hate anyone. She might have a strong disliking towards them, but she doesn't hate them. Even though she may proclaim how much she hates Germany and Japan and Russia, she would never let anything happen to them."

"What would have happened if the Confederates won?" He asked, rather suddenly. A chill went through the room, and Alfred paused.

"I imagine we'd have been a bit like North and South Korea, constantly fighting until eventually, we destroyed each other." A dark look passed over his face as he realized this. "So if Richelle hates anyone, it's me."

"America-"

"Seriously, I mean." He sighed, "I should have known it would end up like this. Every nation that has two personifications always end up like it. Look at Romano and Italy, or North and South Korea. North Ireland and the Republic."

"W-well, to be fair, Romano is just a grouch, and Italy doesn't hate anyone. He loves his brother."

"And I love my sister. But I can't say the same for her."

"And the Koreas are in a bit of a circumstance at the moment..."

"Quite possibly forever."

"Plus, North Ireland and the Republic are insane. North is part of the UK, so of course Ireland is a tad bit upset with him... And England's brothers and sister are wacko."

"Either way." Alfred looked down at his feet. "I probably should join England, Prussia, and Denmark in the Fail Brothers Club."


	10. 1901

**Summary: Alfred and some other nations reminisce about Connie until she finally shows up. Then, they learn something about the young nations no one knew. Apparently, she is more innocent than they think.**

**1901**

This year, the world meeting would be taking place at Alfred's house. The meeting had run smoothly (or as smoothly as it could get) and everyone gathered in the large living room for snacks.

"Hey, Alfred, where IS Richelle?" England asked.

"Uh, she said she had some business to attend to." He shrugged. "Whatever that means."

"Right." He rolled his eyes.

"Hey, who's this!" Italy asked, pointing at a large canvas painting above the fireplace mantle. Alfred turned to look, and he smiled slightly.

"That's Rish and I back during the Revolution." He chuckled and stared at the painting of his seventeen year old self and Richelle's twelve year old self.

"Ha, that cannot be true." China waved it aside. "She looks too innocent. Plus, she is wearing a dress, aru."

America, Spain, France, and Prussia snickered deeply at that. "Believe it or not, dude, even Rish was pretty innocent back then." America laughed.

Everyone stared in disbelief.

"I doubt it, you raised her." England rolled his eyes.

America glared at him, "And you raised me, what's your point?"

"I remember her as a kid!" Finland smiled, "Always made the nice list! Until 1861... She holds the record for longest time on the naughty list!"

"How was she like, as a kid?" Canad asked curiously, and to his surprise, everyone heard him.

A faraway look appeared on America's face. He sighed, "Sweet. Adorable. Kind. Every morning she'd wake me up, begging me to braid her hair and tie those cute, little, red ribbons around her braids." He pointed at the painting. A few nations cooed at the mental image.

"She was strong, determined." France added, "When she and Monsieur Franklin came to visit, Richelle asked me to show her how to fire a musket. She insisted, no matter how much the other men laughed at her. Then she fired at them and the bullet landed an inch from a man's ear." He smirked with pride.

"She's was smart, too." Spain smiled. "She was so cuuuuute! I mean, not as cute as Romano, of course, but she was adorable! And she picked up Spanish REALLY fast!" He sent a pointed look at Romano, who just rolled his eyes.

"Very pretty when she got a bit older, towards the middle of the Revolution." Prussia added. "She grew up faster than any of us did. She was always smiling at people, always helpful. That bright, innocent look on her face never left."

"What... Exactly happened?" Italy pouted. Richelle sounded like she could have been his friend all those years ago. Now, Italy steered clear of the Southerner; he thought she was SCARY.

"Like us all... She grew up." Alfred ran a hand through his hair with sad eyes, as the nations all took their seats in the meeting room.

The doors burst open to Richelle rushing in, face flushed and her jacket completely unzipped. Her shirt was unbuttoned from the top a few times, so you could just see a teasing bit of cleavage. Her jeans seemed to be extra short and tight today. It was then that the nations realized that, much like Alfred, Richelle had a little cowlick that she usually either gelled down or hid in her cowgirl hat. She surprisingly wore a pair of heels and was missing the sunglasses that usually hid half of her face, including her extremely faint freckles and deep blue eyes.

"Sorry I'm late." She panted, "I've had an awful morning. My alarm didn't go off, my shorts shrunk in the wash, my boots were caked in mud, Liberty accidentally dunk my papers in the toilet, which got my shirt wet and I had to change into this shirt that's missing buttons, Georgia, my dog, slobbered all of my sunglasses, and the zipper of my jacket broke off!" She collapsed in a chair. "I didn't even have time to fix my hair..." She mumbled and attempted to straighten her hair by herself. She had yet to see the rest of the nations blatantly staring at her.

France smiled creepily, gaining the attention of America. He glared, smacking him upside the head. "Don't. You. Even. Think. About it." He grit out. France's eyes widened with terror and nodded several times, scooting backwards in fear.

It was halfway into the meeting that chaos broke out. The few countries that, for once, weren't arguing, were having a somewhat normal conversation as they watched Richelle attempt to strangle China for, once again, bringing up the national debt, with America trying (and purposely failing) to pull her off.

"Ah, Amerique has forbidden me to go near his 'precious little girl'." France pouted to Canada.

"Wait, I thought you and Richelle have already slept together." A confused look passed over Mattie's face.

France scoffed, "I wish. It's like every other nations has invaded her vital regions except for me!" He complained, "And might I remind you that aside from Amerique and an angry Angleterre, I was the first nation she met! I practically raised her for a year "

"W-wait, you- uh- haven't had sex with her?" Matthew blushed at the idea of his FATHER with the girl who was practically his sister. Though, technically, different nations aren't really related. The only true relations are direct, like Italy and Romano, Prussia and Germany, Greece and Ancient Greece, and America and Richelle.

"Non, Mathieu." He sighed dramatically. "Prussia was her first, however."

"What?" The two men turned to see the red-eyed albino approaching them. "No I wasn't. We never did anything."

A puzzled look appeared on France's face. "Didn't you share a hut with her during the Revolutionary War? When you were training her brother?"

Gilbert gave him a look. "That doesn't mean I invaded her vital regions! I mean, I wish I did. I thought it was Spain, they spent some time together when they were negotiating the alliance."

"Que?" Said Spanish-speaking country looked over from hugging a very furious Italian. Then he gasped dramatically at the implications. "I would never betray mi Romano like that!" He exclaimed, hugging him tighter.

"LET GO OF ME YOU DAMN TOMATO BASTARD!" Romano shouted furiously.

"Netherlands?" Prussia suggested. Said nation turned in his direction and shook his head, glaring at the implications.

"Uh, Russia?" Spain suggested, earning several horrified looks. Russia smiled.

"America showed up before I could ask, but one day, she will become one with me. Perhaps Lithuania, da?"

Lithuania looked horrified. "I-I would n-never!" He squeaked, face flushing furiously.

Pretty soon, all the nations were engrossed with their conversation, except for America and Richelle, who were, once again, arguing and attempting to kill each other. Even England was interested, despite acting as if it wasn't proper and they should be minding their own business.

"Hold it!" Denmark shouted, and looked at his fellow nations. "Has NO ONE slept with her?"

There was a resounding silence. Simultaneously, it sunk in.

Richelle was a virgin.

France fainted at the realization. His poor little Richelle had been deprived!

"Angleterre! This is all your fault!" He claimed as soon as he was revived.

"W-what? How is this MY fault?" England demanded.

"You raised Amerique in your stupid 'Puritan' ways! He must have passed on the message!" He said furiously. "You've deprived my dear Richelle of the most amazing thing in life!"

"Oh shut up you bloody frog!" England snapped. "We don't even know if she is a-a virgin. Maybe a nation just isn't willing to admit it."

"Then we will ask her!" Prussia grinned, causing Germany to facepalm.

"Hey Richelle!" Spain called over cheerfully. Everyone turned their heads to Richelle and America. Richelle had a gun jabbing into America side, while the male twin had his little sister in a headlock and a knife in his right hand. The twins looked up with an expression that was similar to a child being caught with their hand in a cookie jar.

The two quickly pushed away from each ofher, glaring.

"Oh, mon cherie." France draped an arm around Richelle's shoulder, ignoring America's murderous glare and her confused face. "I must ask you a question."

"What is it, France?" She asked with exasperation.

"Who was the first person to invade your vital regions?" Prussia interrupted eagerly. Immediately, Richelle pulled away from the blonde haired man.

"W-what?" Her face showed deep confusion.

"Who did you lose your innocence to?" Prussia said. A blank look.

"Who popped your cherry?" Spain said helpfully. Yet another confused look.

"Who was the first person you-" France started, before freezing mid-sentence. She didn't seem to understand what they were trying to say. Either Richelle is more oblivious as America, or...

Denmark quickly replaced France and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Well, Rish, we should have a talk." He said, putting emphasis on the last word.

Her face looked puzzled. "That's what this is about? You really don't have to... Alfred gave me the talk after 1812... You know, when a married couple fill out the paperwork and the stork delivers a baby to them!"

A smile grew on Denmark's face. Oh, she was so innocent...

America grabbed his little sister, pulling her away and sending a withering look that was so deadly it could have sent Denmark six feet under. "Leave my sister alone!" He hissed, and cupped his hands over her ears. "None of YOU are deflowering my baby!" He snarled, and took his hands over her ears. She looked confused.

"What did you say?" Richelle asked, eyebrows furrowing with puzzlement.

A fake smile appeared on Alfred's face. "Oh, nothing!" He laughed. "C'mon, Rish, let's go get something to eat!"

"Uh, alright..."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led the confused girl out of the conference room, looking back to send a final warning glare at the nations, who all took a collective step back.

"So, betting pool anyone?" Hungary said, with a mischevious look o her face.

"Twenty Euros it's moi!" France smirked.

"Fifty it's me!" Prussia challenged.

"ONE HUNDRED." Denmark said firmly.

Fifteen years later, in 1916, Denmark won the bet.


	11. The Ghost of the Confederacy

**Summary: After Richelle storms out of yet another meeting, the nations realize that they need to ask her about trade. So they decide to split up and search the building for her. Unfortunately for her, it is somehow Russia who manages to find her.**

"I hate basements." Latvia whimpered, thinking back to his time at Russia's house.

"As do we, but relax. Miss Richelle's basement is usually only used for her storage." Lithuania said nervously, flicking the 'on' switch.

"Explains why America didn't want to come down here." Estonia mused, recalling the uncomfortable look he had recieved when he had asked the American why he couldn't just check the basement himself for the missing nation.

"Hey, what's this!?" They heard Latvia ask. The two eldest turned to look at their brother. Lithuania went paper white as he saw what Latvia was holding. Estonia looked away.

"D-don't touch that!" He scolded, looking horrified.

"What- why?" Latvia asked, confusion evident in his voice. "I've never seen this flag before!"

"For good reason!" Lithuania snatched the flag out of his hands as gently as possible, carefully refolding it again and placing it in the box Latvia had found it in.

"Whose flag is that?" Latvia asked again, confused. He had seen plenty of flags that were no longer 'current', Prussia's flag for example, but he had never seen this red one with a blue 'x' and white stars.

"That WAS Miss Richelle's." Lithuania glanced around nervously. "And there's a reason why it's here."

"C'mon, let's go." Estonia muttered. "She's clearly not here."

**In the Living Room**

"I found her!" Russia smiled creepily as he appeared in the living room, holding Connie by the scruff of her shirt. She kicked and thrashed, furious at being caught so easily by the much larger Russian man. "You gave us quite the scare when you stormed out of the meeting room like that."

"LET ME GO YOU FUCKING COMMIE!" She shrieked, trying desperately to get him to let go.

No one else was in the living room, where they had agreed to meet after half an hour of searching. Russia smiled at her pleasantly and dropped her on the couch, where she landed on her stomach with an, "OOF!"

Using her arms to push herself up, her eyes flickered to the door. Before she could make a mad dash for the exit, Russia grabbed her by the waist.

"Has _Amerika_ neglected to feed you? You're skinny as a twig." He said cheerfully.

"I'm not his fucking pet." she snarled. "Let go of me, you bastard!" She attempted to pry his hands off of her waist to no avail. It eventually ended up with them on the floor and Connie lying on her stomach while in Russia's lap. She squirmed and attempted to get out of his grip.

She finally gave up, sulking and scowling. "I'n going to fucking kill you." She breathed under her breath. She suddenly felt two fingers stroke New Orleans. She squeaked and jolted.

"What is it that you said, comrade?"

Hating the way her voice sounded squeaky and filled with tremors, she whimpered, "Ahhh- nothing." She winced.

"I thought so." Russia giggled. She shivered.

"I WILL get Belarus in here."

"I wish you luck then, seeing as she is not here and you are in a bit of a... Predicament."

"Fucking hell, Russia. Let me go."

"Are you ticklish, comrade?"

Connie froze. "You wouldn't..."

Fingers trailed up her sides. She whimpered again.

"Russia, don't you dare."

Russia wrapped his legs with hers, locking her in place so she couldn't run with his hands preoccupied.

Connie's voice grew slightly panicked. "Russia, please don't-" she cut herself off with a squeal. She began kicking and thrashing again, trying to hide her giggles.

"St-stop!" She whined, laughing so hard that tears formed in her eyes.

"_Nyet_. I enjoy seeing you squirm."

"ALFFREEEEEEED!" She screamed, thrashing and kicking as hard as she could, hiding her giggles.

"Connie!" America shouted happily, entering the room. He took one look at his sister and Russia and took a step back. "Uh, am I interrupting something?"

"Get him off me!" Connie shrieked, furious.

"Eh, no way, dude. He'd start tickling me." Alfred grinned. "I'm sure you'll be fine. See ya'!" He ran down the hall, doing his signature laugh.

"AMERICA! I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU WHEN I GET THROUGH WITH THIS COMMIE!"

**Later...**

"I hate you."

"I hate you too."

Russia and Connie glared at each other from opposite ends of the couch. The rest of the nations watched them like an intense tennis match.

England sighed. "I thought the sexual tension was over after '91."

"Huh?" America asked, as oblivious as ever.

"Nothing, Alfred." Canada replied, rolling his eyes at his 'little' brother's innocence. Or lack of brain cells. Could be either.

* * *

**Summary: After the end of the Civil War, all of the nations believe that Richelle dissolved along with the Confederacy. During the 1865 World Summit, they all believe America's jovial attitude it just a front. When Richelle finally arrives, they believe she's actually a ghost come back to haunt them.**

The year was 1865. Yet another World Meeting had rolled around and it was this time taking place in London. By this time, everyone had heard about the dissolve of the Confederation.

America flung the doors open and beamed. "Hey guys! The HERO has arrived!"

Instead of rolling their eyes like he had expected them all to, several nations gave him pitying looks. France pat his back, "_Amerique_, you do not have to put up a front."

America just blinked. "What?"

"Si." Spain nodded sympathetically. "We all understand your pain."

"My pain...?"

"_Ja_, I'm so sorry, Alfred." Prussia added, an upset look on his face. "I know you want us all to act naturally so you put up a brave face."

"I-"

"Alfred!" Canada had appeared out of nowhere and had wrapped him in a tight hug. "Are you okay?"

"Yes... Why wouldn't I be?"

Canada moved away from his brother and frowned. Then he leaned in closer to France and muttered, "He's in denial." Making the Frenchman nod sympathetically.

"Uh..." Alfred furrowed his eyebrows and squinted, trying to figure them out. England took the facial expression as him trying not to cry.

"Come along, Alfred." He cooed comfortingly. "I'll make you some hot cocoa."

Alfred straightened up. "Okay!" He said excitedly, not even bothering to question the purpose.

As he and England left the room, the other nations shook their heads sadly. America was just way too prideful to cry, they assumed.

England eventually returned. "I sent him to sleep, I figured he hasn't gotten much sleep." England sighed. "Poor boy is denying the fact that his sister has dissolved."

"Hey sorry I'm late. Alfred forgot to wake me up." Connie walked into the room. There was a resounding silence. Nations stared, jaws open and eyes wide, at the young girl making her way to the table.

"EEEEK! GHOST!" Italy screamed in terror. Several others screamed as well, jumping back or hiding under the table.

"What where?!" Connie's eyes widened and she looked around madly.

Prussia screamed, rather girly, "SHE'S HERE! GHOST!" He sobbed, clutching onto a pale and disgruntled looking Austria. Hungary didn't even try to him him with her frying pan, too busy staring at the younger girl with fear.

Connie blinked slowly. Then once more. Before a smirk grew on her face. She stifled her laughter. "_They actually think..._" She thought. "_Oh well, might as well have some fun with this..._"

Smirking, Connie raised her arms dramatically and, while trying to smother her giggles, said, "Ooooooh! I am the ghost of the Confederate States of America, here to haunt those who failed to aid me!"

France jumped into Spain's lap, wailing, "SHE'S HERE FOR ME! HIDE ME!"

"ENGLAND DO SOMETHING!" Spain screamed, clutching onto Romano for dear life.

The pale Englishman, who appeared ready to cry, stammered out, "_Santo Rita Meata Mater Ringo Jonah Tito Marlon Jack La Toya Janet Michael Dumbledora the Explorer_!"

All of a sudden, Russia was right next to him. "You called?" He asked cheerfully.

"I didn't, but it'll have to do!" He whimpered, hiding behind the tall man.

Russia took one look at her and shook his head. "_Nyet_, I supported _Amerika_. I will be running now."

* * *

"You had way too much fun with that."

"I know." Connie hummed to herself as she took a sip of the hot chocolate.

Alfred smirked. "I can't believe they thought you were dead."

"Eh, well, it makes sense." She shivered slightly. "I thought I was gonna die."

"Nah, little sis," Alfred laughed. "Like me, you're too awesome for that."

"Don't call me that." She grumbled.

"Aww, wittle baby Connie is cranky." He cooed mockingly, enjoying the way his sister's face turned pink. "Time for bed!"

Connie grumbled under her breath and stormed up the stairs. Alfred chuckled and headed into his own room, getting under the covers and taking Texas off.

3...2...1...

There was the sound of little footsteps, and his door cracked open. "America..."

"C'mere, short stack." Alfred grinned. Connie scurried into the room, jumping under the covers and curling into him. Alfred laughed inwardly, knowing Connie would probably smack him if he dared laugh aloud. Despite the outward appearance of being sixteen, Connie had the mind of a seven year old.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Hey guys! Just a little update, I was struck with an idea and therefore created a new story! It's an SYOC, for those who don't know what that is, it's a Submit Your Own Character. What that means is that I'm either too lazy or not creative enough to create my own characters, and I want to see what you guys come up with. The story, in summary, will be about the capitals of nations (i.e. Washington D.C., London, Paris, etc.)**

**So please do me a favor and check _Capitalia_ out! I only have D.C. and Tokyo so far, so please just fill out the 'form' and review :D**


	12. Deaged Part 1

**Summary: While hanging out with Denmark, Connie and Mathias accidentally interrupt a meeting between the Magic Trio.**

"Yo, Norge!" Denmark shouted, slamming the door open. "HIDE ME!"

"Ah!" Norway yelped, halfway into a spell. England flinched at the loud noise and jumped as Romania screamed.

"Fucking hell, Mathias!" Connie snapped, brushing past the blonde haired nation. She didn't even bother to look where she was standing, which was the middle of a circle in the room. Connie turned on her heel to glare at her friend. "What have I told you about-"

The Magic Trio had just enough time to look at each other and think, '_uh oh..._' Before a bright, blue light engulfed the room.

The four nations looked at the aftermath.

"So... Who wants to explain this to America?"

* * *

"And that's why Richelle is now seven years old." England finished, looking at the room filled with nations.

"Aw, she is so cute!" France smiled, while America stood up, prepared to kill the three magic users. He was stopped by the seven year old screaming and latching herself onto Alfred.

"ALFIEEEEEEE!" She wailed. "STRANGERS!"

Instinctively, he picked her up. Connie buried her face into his shoulder. America looked dumbfounded. "Uh, it's okay, Connie." He said softly. "They're friends." He comforted, looking at the other nations, unsure.

"Really?"

"Really." He smiled and fondly ruffled her loose brown hair.

"Even England?"

Alfred didn't even hesitate. "Of course!"

England smiled, until he heard Connie's next words.

"But didn't you say that England was an-"

"Heheh, Connie, I didn't say that." He cupped a hand over her mouth, grinning at England sheepishly. "Kids, am I right?" He chuckled nervously.

"Her mind is still in the phase it was when she was this age." England said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"Hey Connie?"

"Yeah?!" She asked, enthusiastic.

"You're really smart, right?"

Connie puffed up arrogance, much like her brother. "Of course!"

"What year is it?"

"It's 1776, silly!" She declared, laughing. "We just got congress to sign the Declaration of Independence!" She cheered. "I wanna see the look on Iggy's face when he sees it." England's eye twitched.

Alfred forced a laugh out. "I did-do too. Sorry, Connie, I forgot, silly me."

Connie giggled. "You're getting ooooooooold..."

Alfred pouted. "I am not..."

"Yeah you are!" She laughed. "Not as old as Jerk-England though!"

"Hey, what did I tell you about saying bad things about England?" He scolded, forgetting the fact that Connie was way past age seven at this point.

Connie rolled her eyes before straightening and giving a surprisingly accurate impression of her brother. "Don't talk about England like that because he was a great big brother he just is too over protective. I don't know what those other kids have been saying but that doesn't give you the right to repeat what they're saying. You should always respect your enemy-"

"I get it." Alfred cut her off, face red with embarrassment.

Arthur smiled slightly. He had no idea how America turned out the way he did, but at least he ended up being a fairly decent big brother to Connie.

"How long until you can reverse this?" Canada asked.

"I don't know." Romania shrugged. "Maybe a week? Two? A year? Who knows."

"I say we keep her like this." Italy giggled, poking the seven year old with interest, only to have his hand smacked away.

"DON'T POKE ME!" She snapped.

"AH! GERMANY!" Italy screamed, jumping into the German's lap.

The German man sighed. "It's okay, Italy, she's just a child, she can't hurt you..."

I like her like this." Russia smiled. Connie turned her head in the bulky man's direction. Everyone held their breaths, stepping backwards and fully expecting a nuclear level meltdown to occur. Instead, she squealed and squirmed out of Alfred's arms. When she touched the ground, she launched herself into Russia's stomach.

"_Vanya_! **(Ivan!)**" She squealed. Russia's heart melted. He picked her up, giving her a true, genuine smile.

"_Privyet, moy malen'kiy podsolnukh. _**(Hello, my little sunflower.)**" He said, as Connie took his scarf and wrapped it around her neck and head, all the while giggling.

To everyone's surprise, Alfred didn't seem upset or angry. His gaze softened and he sighed. "Connie, that's a bit rude." He chided lightly.

She pouted, but unwrapped the scarf from her neck. "Sorry, _Vanya_."

"It is alright, Connie." He replied, ruffling her hair.

"C'mon, Connie, I bet you're tired." Alfred said.

She pouted. "But I wanna plaaaaaaaaay! I'm not tired..." She whined, then yawned.

Alfred chuckled. "If Rus- If Ivan is free later, you can play with him after your nap."

Connie's eyes lit up. "Okay!" She agreed readily, jumping out of Russia's arms and taking Alfred's hand. Alfred led her outside, shooting one look at the meeting room before finally heading to the exit.

"What just happened...?" Spain asked the question that was on everyone's mind.

"The world just imploded upon itself." Lithuania muttered.

* * *

"Hi there, America." Canada greeted softly. It was his and France's turn to watch Connie, after the nations decided they would rotate until the Magic Trio found a way to reverse the spell.

"Hey." It was next thing the next morning, and Alfred had to go to a meeting with his boss. "Uh, just a warning, don't let Connie near any technology. She's thoroughly freaked out by my cell phone."

France blinked. "Alright then."

"And she's allergic to peanut butter." America continued.

"Oui, I know." France replied.

"And if you see Tony, tell him I said sorry. I didn't warn him when I came home and he got tackled with a hug because Connie thought he was 'cute'." he rambled, a thin smile on his face.

"Alfred, we'll be fine." Canada rolled his eyes. "Go on. You have stuff to do."

They walked into Connie's room, where the young girl was lying on her stomach and reading a book.

"_Bonjour_, _petit_ Connie." France smiled. The blue eyes blinked a couple times before she looked up.

"Hi." She waved shyly.

"I am France." He said. "This is Mathieu, your... Brother."

"I have a brother?! Oh, you're Mattie! Alfie ALWAYS talks about you. He said you're an awesome brother." She beamed.

A smile grew on Canada's face. "He said that, eh?"

"Yup!"

"I'll have to talk to him later." Canada said, mentally adding 'and tease him endlessly about it.'

"And Alfie was saying how we'd need you help against Jerk England." She added, looking at France.

"Ohonhonhon, of course-"

"-but I don't know why. From what he told me, you lost a lotta wars against England." She continued, causing France to deflate.

"I did not..." he pouted.

Canada quickly intervened before Connie accidentally made France cry. "Eh, why don't we play a game?

* * *

Alfred returned home in time for lunch and found France and Canada snoozing on the couch, with Connie cuddled in between them. A grin grew on Alfred's face as he took out his phone and snapped a picture.

Hey, she wasn't going to be this cute forever. Might as well make the most of it while he still could.

"Guys, wanna go out for lunch?" Alfred shook his brother awake. His twin brother blinked a couple times drowsily as he was awakened.

"Eh? Oh, sure America." he smiled and stood up, stretching and yawning.

Alfred looked at him with amusement. "Had a nice nap?"

"Yeah, I don't know how kids have that much energy."


	13. Tsundere Part 1

**Summary: England, Romano, and Richelle. Known as the Tsundere Trio. Or as the other nations call them behind their backs: The Temptation Trio. ****France, Spain, and Prussia. Known as the Bad Friends Trio. Or as the other nations call them behind (and in front of) their backs: The Bad Touch Trio. ****It's only a matter of time before the BTT decides they've had enough of waiting. And are prepared to take what they want. More sepcifically, the Tsunderes.**

**If they could get past their protective siblings first.**

* * *

The Bad Touch Trio sat at a bar, mourning and drowning their sorrows with beer and, in France's case, wine.

"Why-why can't Romano just LOVE ME!" An extremely drunk Spaniard sobbed and wailed loudly as he slammed the now empty glass onto the table. Apparently, he's an emotional drunk.

France pat his back sympathetically. "_Oui_, I know what you mean." He sighed dramatically. "_Angleterre_ is so **oblivious**."

"You think you've got it rough?" Prussia massaged the bruise on his cheek. "Richelle threw a surprisingly strong right hook when I was talking to her."

"What did you say to her?"

"_Kesesese_. I probably shouldn't repeat it." Prussia grinned. The two others hooted and laughed, patting his back. Then his red eyes grew downcast.

"We need a plan." Prussia declared. "We all have similar issues."

"_Si_!" Spain brightened up. "I am not the only one who has noticed similarities between England, Richelle, and Lovi?"

"What was it that Japan used to describe them?" France asked. "Tsundere, or something?"

"_Hai_." Japan appeared out of the shadows mysteriously. "It is a word my people use to describe someone who seems cold and sharp, when in reality they are not comfortable with sharing their inner feelings of caring." He explained, before slinking back into the shadows and disappearing.

The BTT looked at each other awkwardly. "Well that was weird." Spain muttered, taking another swig of beer.

"So, how do we deal with our little... Tsunderes?" France asked with a creepy smile on his face.

They looked at each other, stumped.

"Well, there is only one thing to do." Prussia paused for dramatic effect before standing up. "To the internet!" He declared.

And so, the three drunken men stumbled their way out of the bar and into a taxi to their hotel room.

* * *

After passing out, the next morning, the three nursed their hangovers before jumping onto the computer. "Okay. How to deal with you tsundere, with five easy steps." Prussia read aloud. "Step one. The best thing you can do is find someone who has dealt with a tsundere."

"Who do we know who has dealt with someone like them before?" France wondered.

"_Mein bruder_. And isn't Norway sort of tsundere?" Prussia suggested.

"_Si._ And Iceland?"

"He gets it from his big brother." Francis said. "And as far as we know, he doesn't have anyone who knows how to deal with him."

"Then we'll just speak to Denmark later."

"Step 2: Learn the boundaries of which your tsundere has before they resort to physical violence." Prussia read.

"Right. All three of them have very short tempers." France sighed.

"Step 3: Find ways to infuriate them, but in a way that will embarrassingly flatter them. Tsunderes are known to not let their true emotions show, so this embarrassment will cause them to be forced out of their shell, as they aren't known to handle embarrassment well."

"Heh, sounds easy enough."

"Step 4: Remember not to get frustrated. Remember that they hide their true personality and feelings through well crafted and articulated insults and harsh comments, but don't let this phase you. They don't actually mean it."

"That makes so much sense now." Spain muttered, thinking of Romano.

"Step 5: Keep in mind that your tsundere has emotions, despite what you may see. They've probably been rejected or left because of their personality beforehand, so be patient. In good time, they'll warm up to you."

"Alright. Let's do this." Prussia gave his signature laugh and grinned at his two friends. They stood up and headed to Denmark's house.


	14. Tsundere Part 2

After getting pretty much the same information from the Dane, the Bad Touch Trio made their way to the World Meeting.

"Alright, so who wants to go first?" Prussia asked, eyes on Richelle, who was conversing with Canada, Italy, and America.

"Not me." France shook his head quickly. "Spain, you go first. Romano is the least likely to resort to physical violence."

The terrified Spaniard weakly nodded, making his way to the Italian boy, who was yelling at Germany. "Romano!" He sang. "Stop yelling at poor Germany. I brought some extra tomatoes!"

Romano stopped, and looked at the taller man. He scowled. "I'm not done with you." He told the German before following Spain out.

After handing his former charge a basket of tomatoes, Spain laughed. "Your face really does look like a tomato!"

Romano's face went a deeper red. "Shut up, bastardo! I do not look like a tomato!"

"Aw, but you're so cute!" Spain cooed, pinching his cheeks. "More handsome now than cute, though. Not like when you were just a little kid!"

Romano lookedd horribly embarrassed. "I-I-" he stammered, face, if possible, getting even darker. He was pressed up against the wall, with Spain standing over him. There was a tense silence between them, and Romano held his breath. Spain hesitated.

"For fuck's sake, stupid bastard." Romano hissed, grabbing Spain by the collar and pulling his lips to his.

Half an Hour Later, Romano and Spain stumbled in half way into the meeting with messed up hair, flushed faces, and crumpled clothes.

Everyone stared.

Spain wore a goofy smile on his face as he took his seat next to Prussia and France. "Heh, looks like the steps actually work." He murmured to them.

Unbeknownst to them, a certain ditzy Italian narrowed his eyes at the Spaniard.

* * *

During break, France made a beeline to a certain Englishman. He found England in an empty room with a cup of tea and his papers. His bushy eyebrows were furrowed together, and he seemed to be concentrating on his work quite tensely.

France snuck up behind him, smiling as he placed a hand on England's shoulder, which caused him to jump. "Oh, France. It's just you." He relaxed slightly, but not by much. "What do you want? I have some stuff to do."

"Oh, Angleterre, I could tell. You look very sexy when you are concentrating." France smiled coyly. England turned a slight shade of pink.

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean, you frog?!"

"Exactly as I said it." France shrugged. "Do you remember that time when I tried to force you into marriage?"

England scowled at the memory. "How can I forget?"

"Well... The truth is, it wasn't my boss' idea." France finally admitted.

England's emerald eyes widened, and his jaw fell open. "W-what are you saying, France?! Why the hell would you do that?" He sputtered. He shivered as he felt France's warm breath on his neck as he leaned in to whisper, "Perhaps I miss the times we spent as pirates... And the time we spent in your cabin."

England's face flushed, recalling the times of his privateer days. He felt a wave of warmth and slight embarrassment run through him as he recalled how... seme, as Japan would call it, he had been.

"And there's no way, Angleterre," France purred in his ear. "That I'm about to leave without you telling me that you don't miss it as well."

The next day, England walked into the meeting with a slight limp, side by side with a smirking France.

"'Sup Iggy!" America's smile faded as he saw the limp. "Dude! You okay?"

"Huh?" England blinked.

"You're walking a bit funny."

England turned red. France laughed pervertedly. Amerca looked confused. Arthur coughed slightly. "Eh, yes, I'm fine. Just a little sore. Errr... The hotel beds were not very comfortable."

France stifled his giggles as England sent him a warning glare. He turned around, and America narrowed his eyes upon seeing some marks on his brother's neck. England and France walked off, leaving America to silently plot a homicide.

* * *

Prussia swallowed, red eyes watching Richelle's movements as she presented her speech fluently during the meeting. It had gone well for both Spain and France, he told himself. But then again, Richelle was different. Richelle was kinda sorta maybe not really in a relationship with Lithuania. Which Prussia thought totally sucked, because he was way more awesome than the Baltic.

After the meeting, Richelle was the last one in the meeting room, packing up her laptop and papers. Prussia slid back in, quietly.

"Hey there Richelle!" He grinned. She looked back, and rolled her eyes.

"Gilbert." She greeted. "I thought Germany told you to not come to these meetings anymore."

"Who listens to West anyways? Why would I stay home when I can be looking at your awesome face." He was hoping for some sort of reaction.

He was let down. She rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"Whatever. I hope you enjoyed the long ass meeting with a bunch of jerks talking about why communism should rule the world." She grumbled.

Okay, embarrassment isn't working. Maybe a more direct approach was needed...?

"Ha! I'm too awesome to pay attention!" Prussia laughed, slowly slipping into a bit more of a comfortable zone, like be usually spoke to Richelle. As a friend. He gulped. "Uh, so, on a slightly less- or more, however you take it- awesome note, I kinda wanted to say something..."

"What is it?" She asked, half curious and half wary.

"Richelle, no- Connie." Prussia took her hand. "_Ich liebe dich_!"

Her face showed utter confusion. "W-what?"

"_Ich liebe_- I-I-" he stammered in both German and English, back and forth. "I love... _Dich_."

Immediately, she withdrew her hand. Her face utmost shock. "What?! You love... Dich?"

"Y-yes." He stuttered.

"Well... I mean I always thought so... Hungary and I were actually debating about it... I just didn't think you'd be so straightforward about it." Gilbert noticed, with slight relief, that she wasn't responding negatively.

"I'm glad that you're taking this well." Prussia smiled. "I was afraid you'd be upset, you being with Lithuania and all."

"Lithuania? What does- ohhhhhh..." Understanding filled her face. "Why would I be upset? I mean, I completely understand. You can't help who you fall in love with."

"Really?" This was turning out better than he had expected. "That's _wunderbar_!" He exclaimed, picking her up and spinning her around. Richelle cried out from surprise until Prussia finally put her down. He leaned in to kiss her, only to be pushed back.

"Wait- what-?" Prussia looked at the utmost confusion on her face. "Didn't you just say that-" she sputtered. "You loved dick?"

Prussia suddenly looked absolutely horrified. "I said- I mean- I love YOU!"

"But you said- about Liet- but-" Richelle's confused face suddenly turned furious. "You asshole!" She slapped him before storming off.

Prussia winced, holding his cheek and watching Richelle's retreating form. He sighed; of all things to happen...

Canada watched the entire thing, invisible in his seat. He smiled to himself, glad to know that he wouldn't have to bother to try to murder Prussia. America and Italy were already planning on everything but declaring war on France and Spain. It reassured him to know that his little sister could take care of herself.


End file.
